


Ana Jackson and the Battle of the Labyrinth

by IWantColouredRain



Series: Ana Jackson and the Olympians [4]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Percy Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-11-12 12:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 100,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18010724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWantColouredRain/pseuds/IWantColouredRain
Summary: Ana is NOT coping well since her escape from Othrys. Yet she has no time to try and sort herself out, as a tunnel leading right into the heart of Camp has been found. Unless she and her friends can stop it in time, the Titans will invade, and the West will be destroyed with it.





	1. I Battle a Pair of Bitchie-Witchie Barbies

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter One**

**I Battle a Pair of Bitchie-Witchie Barbies**

The last thing I wanted to do on my summer break was blow up yet another school. Or any buildings at all for that matter. But Chiron had decided that I needed a 'break' from my life of violence and mythology-in-the-flesh, so there I was on Monday morning, the first week of June, sitting in one of the camp SUVs in front of Goode High School on East 81st.

Goode was this big brownstone building overlooking the East River. A bunch of BMWs and Lincoln Town Cars were parked out front. Staring up at the fancy stone archway, I wondered how long it would take me to get kicked out of this place. Or go insane. 50-50 chance by the looks of it.

"This is so unfair," I mumbled, more to myself than to Argus, who had driven me to the damn place. "What's even the point of this? I'm just gonna get expelled for being attacked by whatever anyway."

Argus, of course, said nothing. I sighed grumpily and picked my satchel up as I undid my seatbelt. I pulled the brown leather strap over my shoulder and let the purple fabric rest against my left hip as I exited the SUV and straightened up, slamming the door closed without a goodbye.

When I pressed against a hidden pocket of my bag, a Solstice gift from the girls at Camp, I could feel a Swiss Army-style Celestial Bronze knife hidden in it. It was just as comforting as the familiar feeling of my hairpin/sword, and the other Celestial Bronze knife I had under my shirt and strapped to my sides, with another attached to my ankle and tucked underneath my denim jeans. Both knives were also Solstice gifts, made personally by Beck. In short, I was armed to the teeth.

Since being rescued from Mount Othrys, I'd been,  _tense_ , to say the least. And having anything less than my sword and at least one knife on me at all times was grounds for panic to start to overwhelm me. I despised how fragile I felt (and the ever-lessening amount of time until the Apocalypse, a.k.a my sixteenth birthday didn't help either.), and I knew my friends were all worried for me.

Every so often, they slipped and treated me like I was a China doll or something. That, in turn, made my temper flare in defensiveness, and caused me to lash out at them. It said a lot about how amazing they all were that they hadn't started to resent me for my schizophrenic attitude in the last few months.

I'd been having trouble controlling my powers too. It wasn't something I was used to. Every time I gained a new power, I had instinctively been able to control it. But my powers were linked to my emotions, and my mental state was a disaster. Chiron kept trying to get me to 'confront what happened', but therein lay the road to insanity. (And, given my power set, severe property damage).

So now, I was being sent to school of all things. Where did Chiron come up with these ideas?

The sound of Argus driving off startled out of my thoughts, making me jolt and reach for one of my knives, and I sighed as I realized that I wasn't about to be attacked. I looked up at the school, pursing my lips in distaste.

A man with salt-and-pepper hair in a brown leather jacket, presumably a teacher, was greeting a girl with frizzy red hair. She wore a maroon T-shirt and ratty jeans decorated with marker drawings. When she turned, I caught a glimpse of her face, and the hairs on my arms stood straight up.

"Shit," I mumbled under my breath, remembering seeing the events of Hoover Dam through Luke's eyes whilst unconscious. Was that really her? It seemed like a pretty big coincidence, but I was a demigod, so... I turned from side to side, finally catching a glimpse of another entrance.

Adjusting my bag to hide the fact that I was checking my knives, I made my way towards it. Even if it wasn't Miss Sees-Through-the-Mist, I still didn't like the thought of being squeezed into that large group of people.

Sneaking into orientation didn't work out too well. Two cheerleaders in purple-and-white uniforms were standing at the side entrance, waiting to ambush freshmen trying to avoid the crowds (like me).

"Hi!" They smiled, which I figured was the first and last time any cheerleaders would be that friendly to me. Everybody would soon be put off by my foster care backstory and the icy demeanour I tended to gain when around mortals who considered being grounded and SATs as the height of torture.

One was blond with icy blue eyes. The other was African American with dark curly hair like Medusa's (and believe me, I know what I'm talking about. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt). Both girls had their names stitched in cursive on their uniforms, but with my dyslexia, the words looked like meaningless spaghetti. Just looking at them made my temples start to throb in pain.

"Welcome to Goode," the blond girl said in an overly-bright tone. "You are so going to love it." The contemptuous expression she wore as she eyed my faded Camp t-shirt and torn skinny jeans betrayed her true thoughts however.

The other girl stepped uncomfortably close to me. I studied the stitching on her uniform and thought it said Kelli. I could've been wrong though. She smelled like roses and something else I recognized from riding lessons and working in the stables at camp—the scent of freshly washed horses. It was a weird smell for a cheerleader. Didn't they usually wear Chanel or something?

At least, Drew Tanaka, the bitchiest person at camp, was a cheerleader at her school and that's what she wore. (Granted, all the Cabin 9 kids claimed that monsters avoided Chanel like the plague, so I kinda got what they bothered wasting all that money on it.)

She stood so close I got the feeling she was going to try to push me down the steps. At least if I had a concussion I could probably get out of orientation. "What's your name, fish?"

"Fish?"

"Freshman."

I raised an eyebrow incredulously as I replied in a curt tone, "Ana."

The girls exchanged looks.

"Oh, Ana Jackson," the blond one said, her voice seeming sinister to my paranoid ears. "We've been waiting for you."

That sent a chill down my back, my spine going rigid. I  _knew_  this was a terrible idea. They were blocking the entrance, smiling in a not-very-friendly way. My hand crept instinctively towards my side, hidden by my bag and pressing against the knife. I fumbled subtly to lift my shirt and unsheathe it. I'd prefer Anaklusmos, but reaching for my hair would be too obvious, especially since I was known for having a sword disguised as a hairpin.

Then another voice came from inside the building. "Hey, you guys need to get to the gym now. You're going to be late." It was the same teacher who'd been greeting people at the front door. I'd never been so relieved to see a mortal.

The cheerleaders backed off. I was so anxious to get past them I accidentally kneed Kelli in the thigh.

Clang.

Her leg made a hollow, metallic sound, like I'd just hit a flagpole.

"Ow," she muttered. "Watch it, fish."

I glanced down, but her leg looked like a regular old leg. I prayed desperately for a break and for it to be a prosthetic or something. I expected she was some kind of monster and decided to get away as quick as I could.

I dashed into the hall, the cheerleaders laughing behind me.

"Welcome to Goode!" the teacher greeted me cheerfully, apparently oblivious to everything that had just occurred. "I'm Paul Blofis, the English teacher here."

"Hey, uh, Mr. Blofish." I glanced back, but the suspicious, and probably monstrous, cheerleaders had disappeared. "I'm Ana Jackson."

He grinned at me. "It's Blo _fis_ , actually," he corrected me cheerfully, before clapping his hands together and beginning to walk, me trailing at his heels with a tension-filled spine. "But never mind that. Nice to meet you, Ana. I spoke with your guardian, Mr. Brunner, on the phone. He explained the circumstances, and I don't want you to worry. We have a few other foster kids here and we get a lot of kids here with ADHD and dyslexia. The teachers know how to help. We're all here if you need extra help or just to talk. We also have a very good guidance counsellor who you'll be introduced to later."

I almost wanted to laugh. If only foster care, ADHD and dyslexia were my biggest worries. I mean, I knew the guy was only trying to help, but if I told him the truth about me, he'd either think I was crazy or he'd run away screaming.

It didn't matter. If my suspicions were correct, then I wouldn't be here for long. Fights with monsters always caused property destruction, and those cheerleaders gave me a bad feeling. I could only think of one reason for them to recognize me, let alone be waiting for me. And I'm sure that they were waiting for me.

Then I looked down the hall, and I remembered I had another problem. The redheaded girl I'd seen on the front steps was just coming in the main entrance.

Thankfully, she had never seen me before, so although she noticed me, I didn't seem to register in her mind. Thank the gods for the obliviousness of mortals. Still, best not to tempt the Fates any more than I did by existing.

"Where's the orientation?" I asked Mr. Blowfish. Weird name, but I do like sea creatures. Fish were so innocent and foolish, how could I not?

"The gym. That way. But—"

"Bye."

"Ana?" he called, but I was already rushing away.

A bunch of kids were heading for the gym, and soon I was just one of three hundred fourteen-year-olds all crammed into the bleachers. I have to say, the whole thing was horrific in a very different way to battles with hundreds of lives at stake, but still horrific. At least to me it was.

A marching band played an out-of-tune fight song that sounded like somebody hitting a bag of cats with a metal baseball bat. Older kids, probably student council members, stood up front modelling the Goode school uniform and looking all,  _Hey, we're cool_. Never mind that they were wearing grey and blue striped ties of all things with the school's emblem on their chests. Teachers milled around, smiling and shaking hands with students. The walls of the gym were plastered with big purple and-white banners that said WELCOME FUTURE FRESHMEN, GOODE IS GOOD, WE'RE ALL FAMILY, and a bunch of other happy slogans that pretty much made me want to throw up.

None of the other freshmen looked thrilled to be here, either. I mean, coming to orientation in June, when school doesn't even start until September, is not cool. But at Goode, "We prepare to excel early!" At least that's what the brochure said. Seriously, Chiron has to be punishing me for the incident with the arena last month. There is literally no other logical explanation for my being forced into this. This was not going to give me a break, unless he meant a break _down_.

The marching band stopped playing. A guy in a pinstripe suit came to the microphone and started talking, but the sound echoed around the gym so I had no idea what he was saying. He might've been advertising the benefits of toothfloss for all I knew.

Of course, my concern was mainly for the fact that I had somehow ended up standing right beside R.E.D, in yet another prank by those three Bitches-Who-Did-Stitches up on Olympus. On the bright side, though, she had no idea who I was or that I mattered in any way, and hopefully that would continue to be true. I wouldn't put money on it though.

The pinstriped guy stopped speaking and stepped away from the mike, leaving room for the suspicious cheerleaders to come up to it.

"Hi, guys!" the blonde bubbled into the microphone. Oh sure,  _she's_  audible. "My name is Tammi, and this is like, Kelli." Kelli did a cartwheel.

Next to me, R.E.D yelped like someone had stuck her with a pin. A few kids looked over and snickered, but she just stared at the cheerleaders in horror. Tammi didn't seem to notice the outburst. She started talking about all the great ways we could get involved during our freshman year.

My heart sank and I leaned over to her. "What do you see when you look at them?" I hissed. She looked back at me with wide, shocked green eyes.

"What?" I pressed.

"Run," she replied seriously. "Now."

"Why?"

Rachel didn't explain. She pushed her way to the edge of the bleachers, ignoring the frowning teachers and grumbling kids she was stepping on.

I hesitated. Tammi was explaining how we were about to break into small groups and tour the school. Kelli caught my eye and gave me an amused smile, like she was waiting to see what I'd do. She knew as well as I that it would be suspicious if I ditched.

I considered how it would look, R.E.D's ability to see reality, and my own suspicions about the two 'cheerleaders'. Then I dashed away, unconcerned for the mortals who were in my way.

I found Rachel in the band room. She was hiding behind a bass drum in the percussion section. Very badly at that, I mean seriously. Even Harley could find her, and Harley was six. Still, it presumably gave her a sense of safety, and an untrained mortal probably needed that.

"Get over here!" she hissed at me, waving.

Even if she had been well-hidden, speaking and the gesture would've screwed her over completely. Mortals, how did they survive without ingrained battle-instincts? Ya gotta wonder.

"Keep your head down!"

I felt ridiculously exposed and cornered hiding behind a bunch of bongos, but I crouched down beside her.

"Did they follow you?" Rachel asked tensely.

"You mean the cheerleaders?"

She nodded nervously.

"I don't think so," I replied. They'd been on stage when I left. Not enough time to follow me, and they'd be too obvious. "What are they? What did you see?"

Her green eyes were bright with fear. She had a sprinkle of freckles on her face that reminded me of constellations. Her maroon T-shirt read HARVARD ART DEPT. "You…you wouldn't believe me."

"Oh, yeah, I would," I promised. "I know you can see through the Mist. It's obvious, and I know what happened at Hoover Dam last winter."

Rachel looked shocked. "The what? How do you know what happened at the Dam?"

"The Mist. It's…well, it's like this veil that hides the way things really are. Some mortals are born with the ability to see through it. Like you. And as for the Dam thing, Luke, the guy you met, is my best friend."

She studied me carefully. "He did that too at Hoover Dam. Called me a mortal. Like you two aren't."

I felt like punching a bongo. What was I thinking? I could never explain. I shouldn't even try. Talking was  _not_  my forte,  _fighting_  was. Especially with my current mental state. There was a big difference between comforting an eleven-year-old who'd just arrived at Camp and seen the orientation video to actually explaining the reality of the world to someone. A mortal at that.

"Tell me," she begged. "You know what it means. All these horrible things I see?"

I bit my lip for a moment before sighing and deciding to give it my best shot. "Look, this is probably going to sound weird. Do you know anything about Greek myths?"

"Like…the Minotaur and the Hydra?"

"Yeah, just try not to say those names when I'm around, okay?"

"And the Furies," she continued, warming up. "And the Sirens, and—"

"Okay!" I looked around the band hall anxiously, sure that Rachel was going to make a bunch of bloodthirsty nasties pop out of the walls; but we were still alone. Not for long though. Down the hallway, I heard a mob of kids coming out of the gymnasium. They were starting the group tours. We didn't have long to talk.

"All those monsters," I said, "all the Greek gods—they're real."

"I knew it!"

I would've been more comfortable if she'd called me a liar, but Rachel looked like I'd just confirmed her worst suspicion.

"You don't know how hard it's been," she said. "For years I thought I was going crazy. I couldn't tell anybody. I couldn't—" Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. Who are you? I mean really?"

"A demigod," I replied curtly. "The gods are the same as ever, meaning they all go around having kids with mortals, and said kids go around being attacked by and fighting monsters."

Rachel's eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth to speak, but she never got the chance to say anything.

Just then Tammi and Kelli stepped into the band room. The doors slammed shut behind them.

"There you are, Ana Jackson," Tammi said. "It's time for your orientation."

"They're horrible!" Rachel gasped.

Tammi and Kelli were still wearing their purple-and-white cheerleader costumes, holding pom-poms from the rally.

"What do they really look like?" I asked, but Rachel seemed too stunned to answer. My temples throbbed, the way they always did when the Mist was too strong for me to see through it properly, but not strong enough to prevent me from recognizing its' presence.

"Oh, forget her." Tammi gave me a brilliant smile and started walking toward us. Kelli stayed by the doors, blocking our exit.

I glared, rose to my feet and summoned my sword. Rachel gasped again.

"Stay back," I ordered her crisply. "You don't have training, you'll get in the way."

Tammi took another step forward, but I levelled the tip of my sword at her chest. "Get back."

She snarled. "Freshmen," she said with disgust. "This is our school, half-blood. We feed on whom we choose!"

Then she began to change. The colour drained out of her face and arms. Her skin turned as white as chalk, her eyes completely red. Her teeth grew into fangs.

"What the fuck are you?" I demanded, eyebrows shooting up. The origin of vampires, obviously. Shame I didn't have garlic. Then I noticed her legs. Below the cheerleader skirt, her left leg was brown and shaggy with a donkey's hoof. Her right leg was shaped like a human leg, but it was made of bronze. "What's with your-"

"Don't mention the legs!" Tammi snapped. "It's rude to make fun!"

She advanced on her weird, mismatched legs. She looked totally bizarre, especially with the pom-poms, but I couldn't laugh—not facing those red eyes and sharp fangs.

Kelli laughed. "We are empousai, servants of Hecate," she declared. "The legends of vampires were based on us!" She looked very proud of the fact that she had inspired Twilight.

"So you sparkle in the sunlight?" I retorted sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

Tammi glared angrily at me as she edged closer. "How dare you mention that abomination of a series!" she screeched. "We are not some pathetic undead weaklings like those created by Stephanie Meyers!

Dark magic formed us from animal, bronze, and ghost! We exist to feed on the blood of young men."

I made the mistake of meeting her eyes. For a moment, I was frozen, unable to move due to her power (godsdamnit, I hate magic. Sorry Lou.). I wriggled slightly, trying to fight off the spell but not quite able to manage it.

She bared her fangs. I thought I was a goner, but Rachel threw a snare drum at the empousa's head. Maybe I'd been a bit harsh on her when I said that she'd get in the way of the fight.

The demon hissed and batted the drum away. It went rolling along the aisles between music stands, its' springs rattling against the drumhead. Rachel threw a xylophone, but the demon just swatted that away, too.

Thankfully, the spell had broken, and I was now back in control. I was also pissed off, which everyone I knew would declare a nuclear-level problem for whoever had gotten me worked up.

I slashed with Anaklusmos. Tammi tried to dodge my blade, but I sliced straight through her cheerleader uniform, and with a horrible wail she exploded into dust all over Rachel.

Rachel coughed. She looked like she'd just had a sack of flour dumped on her head. "Gross!"

"Monsters do that," I explained. "Sorry."

"You killed my trainee!" Kelli yelled, looking infuriated. "You need a lesson in school spirit, half-blood!"

Then she too began to change. Her wiry hair turned into flickering flames. Her eyes turned red. She grew fangs. She loped toward us, her brass foot and hoof clopping unevenly on the band-room floor.

"I am a senior empousa," she growled. "No hero has managed to best me in a thousand years."

"Then you're way overdue, sweetheart," I drawled. "And btw, purple and red do not go together!" I lunged.

Kelli was a lot faster than Tammi. She dodged my first strike and rolled into the brass section, knocking over a row of trombones with a mighty crash. Rachel scrambled out of the way while I put myself between her and the empousa.

Kelli circled us, her eyes going from me to the sword. No doubt she knew about my skills with it.

"Poor dear." Kelli chuckled. "You don't even know what's happening, do you? Soon, your pretty little camp will be in flames, your friends made slaves to the Lord of Time, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. It would be merciful to end your life now, before you have to see that."

I snarled in fury at the threat. Camp Half-Blood was my home, its' residents my family. Nothing would happen to it, or them. Not while I had breath left to prevent it from happening.

From down the hall, I heard voices. A tour group was approaching. A man was saying something about locker combinations.

The empousa's eyes lit up. "Excellent! We're about to have company!"

I instantly feared she would use them as hostages. It wasn't an unknown tactic (and was often successful) when it came to fighting monsters with brains. The mortals' lack or understanding of the situation due to the Mist only ever made the situation worse.

Kelli picked up a tuba and threw it at me. Rachel and I ducked. The tuba sailed over our heads and crashed through the window.

The voices in the hall died down.

"Ana!" Kelli shouted, pretending to be scared, "why did you throw that?"

I was too busy ducking another projectile to defend myself verbally. (Not that it'd help, of course.) Kelli picked up a music stand and swiped a row of clarinets and flutes. Chairs and musical instruments crashed to the floor.

"Bitch!" I swore. I cast a despairing glance at the door, already predicting what was going to happen. After all, Hecate's defection had been revealed months ago, and she controlled the Mist. Obviously the blame for this would be placed on me, not the monster, just like it always was. Damn it.

People were tromping down the hall now, coming in our direction. Why do people always have to go  _towards_  fights?

"Time to greet our visitors!" Kelli bared her fangs and ran for the doors. I almost ran after her, then it clicked what she planned to do. As Kelli flung open the doors, I dived out the broken window, swearing violently in a mixture of Ancient Greek, Latin and English.

I landed right on top of Luke, who was waiting outside for me to finish, and ended up knocking him to the ground.

He blinked, glanced up, and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Run for it?"

"Now," I agreed hastily.

We scrambled to our feet and darted off, pausing after darting into an alleyway to deal with my cuts from the broken glass. Somehow, Rachel had managed to catch up with us, gasping desperately for breath. No doubt she had followed the trail of blood I had left behind, but her physique and style suggested she was an artist, not an athlete.

"You're the girl from Hoover Dam," Luke stated, looking confused. "What're you doing here?"

She ignored his question, focusing on me. "I want to know more about half-bloods," she insisted. "And monsters. And all of this stuff about the gods." She grabbed my arm, whipped out a permanent marker, and wrote a phone number on my hand. "You're going to call me and explain, okay? You owe me that. Now get going."

"But—"

"I'll make up some story," Rachel said. "I'll tell them it wasn't your fault. Just go!"

She ran back toward the school, leaving Luke and I in the street. We looked at each other, Luke leaning against his new motorbike (courtesy of the Hephaestus cabin as a birthday gift two months ago) that I had just noticed.

"What in the name of Tartarus did you do this time, Ariel?" he asked, a mixture of exasperation and amusement on his face.

I glared back at him. "It's all Chiron's fault for sending me here in the first place," I grumbled in answer. "Let's get outta here. I'll explain on the way home."


	2. Council of Conceited Egomaniacs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana meets Quintus

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Two**

**The Council of Conceited Egomaniacs**

It didn't take long for Luke and I to get back to Camp, but I took advantage of the ride to give a rundown of what had happened at the orientation. Luke was about as pleased to hear about Kelli's threat as I had been. He also announced that Grover had arrived back about shortly after I'd left, and was due to go in front of the Council of Cloven Elders this afternoon. The news only added to my stress, and I was openly scowling as we hiked to the crest of the hill.

The young guardian dragon was dozing, coiled around the pine tree that had once been Thalia, but he lifted his coppery head as we approached and let me scratch under his chin. Steam hissed out his nostrils like from a teakettle, and he went cross-eyed with pleasure.

"Hey, Peleus," Luke greeted him fondly, giving the top of Peleus' head a quick pat as he spoke. "Keeping everything safe?"

The first time that I'd seen the dragon he'd been six feet long. That was four months ago. Now he was at least twice that, and as thick around as the tree itself. Above his head, on the lowest branch of the pine tree, the Golden Fleece shimmered, its' magic powering our wards and protecting the camp's borders from invasion. The dragon seemed relaxed, like everything was okay.

Below us, Camp Half-Blood looked peaceful— green fields, forest, shiny white Greek buildings. The four-story farmhouse we called the Big House sat proudly in the midst of the strawberry fields. To the north, past the beach, the Long Island Sound glittered in the sunlight.

Still…something felt wrong. There was tension in the air, as if the hill itself were holding its' breath, waiting for something bad to happen. Maybe it was.

We walked down into the valley and found the summer session in full swing. I'd been away at Montauk for the past fortnight, and most people had arrived back last weekend, so the sudden crowd was a shock to my system.

The satyrs were playing their pipes in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow with woodland magic. Campers were having flying horseback lessons, swooping over the woods on their pegasi. Smoke rose from the forges, and hammers rang as kids made their own weapons for Arts & Crafts. The Athena and Demeter teams were having a chariot race around the track, and over at the canoe lake some kids in a Greek trireme were fighting a large orange sea serpent. It looked like a typical day at camp.

That is, until you spotted the medical supplies and weapons that were being stockpiled, or noticed the group of nine-year-olds being taught battlefield triage with unusual seriousness. (It had already been decided that anyone below double-digits would be acting as couriers, medics, etc, but  _not_  fighters.) Or one of the other numerous signs that Camp Half-Blood was preparing for war.

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. I usually kept it in a braid, but it'd come undone at some point during the day. Or morning, I mentally corrected myself as I spotted the time on my watch. To think it wasn't even two o'clock yet.

"Luke!" one of the cabin eleven kids came darting up. I recognized her, but I couldn't think of a name. She had come to camp last summer, and lived with her mortal father. Unclaimed, but definitely an agricultural god's kid. Probably Demeter from her features.

"A group of Ares' kids are trying to kill the Stolls," she announced. I huffed and pressed my fingertips into my temples. Typical.

"What'd they do this time Billie?" Luke sighed in exasperation. Billie! Billie Ng, that's who she was.

Bille shrugged. "Threw a couple of multi-coloured paint bombs at Cabin 5," she explained briefly. I pressed harder on my temples while Luke groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Idiots," he grumbled. He turned to me. "Ana, I-"

I waved him off. "I'll track down Chiron and tell 'im what happened," I assured him. "You go and save the Stolls from being humiliated before their deaths."

Luke gave a dry half-smile before he and Billie hurried off. Meanwhile, I went looking for Chiron.

Okay, so I lied. I wasn't in the mood to try and track down Chiron and tell him what happened.

Yes, he's the most understanding adult ever to exist, but that just meant that disappointing him felt even worse. Especially because he  _actually_  seemed to believe that I have potential. I'd rather be stabbed than disappoint him.

So, instead of locating Chiron, I went to the arena. It was my default place to go in order to get rid of the excess energy and anger still lurking in me after the disastrous orientation at Goode High. Practicing always calms me down. Riding and swimming helped too, but A: I hate to connect with my father, and B: hacking a dummy to pieces is more effective in these situations.

I walked into the amphitheatre and my heart almost stopped. In the middle of the arena floor, with its' back to me, was the biggest hellhound I'd ever seen.

I mean, I've seen some pretty big hellhounds. One the size of a rhino tried to kill me when I was twelve. But this hellhound was bigger than a tank. I had no idea how it had gotten past the camp's magic boundaries. It looked right at home, lying on its' belly, growling contentedly as it chewed the head off a combat dummy. It hadn't noticed me yet, but if I made a sound, I knew it would sense me. There was no time to go for help.

Thankfully, I had already summoned my sword. Without hesitation, I charged. I brought down the blade on the monster's enormous backside when out of nowhere another sword blocked my strike.

CLANG!

The hellhound pricked up its' ears. "WOOF!"

I jumped back and instinctively struck at the swordsman—a grey-haired man in Greek armour. He parried my attack with no problem. It disturbed me more than I'd ever admit, and I made a mental note to increase my practise time. Given the fight with Kelli earlier, and now this guy, I clearly needed it.

"Whoa there!" he said. "Truce!"

"WOOF!" The hellhound's bark shook the arena.

"That's a hellhound!" I snapped at him. What was he thinking, stopping me from killing the damn thing?

"She's harmless," the man insisted. "That's Mrs. O'Leary."

I blinked in utter bewilderment. I wasn't sure which statement shocked me most, the thought of a hellhound being harmless, or it being called, "Mrs. O'Leary?"

At the sound of her name, the hellhound barked again. I realized she wasn't angry. She was excited. She nudged the soggy, badly chewed target dummy toward the swordsman.

"Good girl," the man said. With his free hand he grabbed the armoured mannequin by the neck and heaved it toward the bleachers with surprising strength. "Get the Greek! Get the Greek!"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded after her prey and pounced on the dummy, flattening its' armour. She began chewing on its' helmet. I suppressed a shudder. Seriously, playing 'Get the Greek' with a hellhound? What kind of lunatic was this guy?

The swordsman smiled dryly. He looked like he was in his fifties, with short grey hair and a clipped beard. He was in good shape for an older guy. He wore black mountain-climbing pants and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp T-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before I could make out what it was, he shifted his armour straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.

I didn't recognize him.

"Mrs. O'Leary is my pet," he explained. "I couldn't let you stick a sword in her rump, now, could I? That might have scared her."

Scared  _her_? Actually, on second thoughts, avoiding having a scared hellhound on the loose in camp sounded like an excellent idea. Nobel Prize worthy, if you ask me. Still.

"Who are you?" I didn't bother hiding the suspicion in my tone and face, nor did I put away Anaklusmos.

"Promise not to kill me if I put my sword away?"

I hesitated for a moment before giving a grudging nod. "I guess."

He sheathed his sword and held out his hand. "Quintus."

I shook his hand. It was calloused from years of swordplay and other physical work. Maybe forge-work, though I wasn't sure.

"Ana Jackson," I told him. "What's with the-" I waved in the direction of 'Mrs. O'Leary', who was still happily gnawing on the poor dummy.

"It's a long story, involving many close calls with a death and quite a few giant chew toys," Quintus explained, looking rueful. "I'm the new sword instructor, by the way. Helping out Chiron while Mr. D is away."

"Oh." I tried not to stare as Mrs. O'Leary ripped off the target dummy's shield with the arm still attached and shook it like a Frisbee. That Mr. D was gone was the only good thing going on at the moment.

Even then, it was a mixed blessing, given the fact that he was gone to try and stop various minor gods from defecting to the Titans. (If he acted remotely like he did to us towards them,  _more_ would probably defect, not less. We're so screwed.)

Off to my left, there was a loud BUMP. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs. O'Leary cocked her head and bounded toward them.

"Whoa, girl!" Quintus said. "Those aren't for you." He distracted her with the bronze shield Frisbee.

The crates thumped and shook. There were words printed on the sides, but with my dyslexia they took me a few minutes to decipher:

TRIPLE G RANCH. FRAGILE THIS END UP

Along the bottom, in smaller letters: OPEN WITH CARE. TRIPLE G RANCH IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR PROPERTY DAMAGE, MAIMING, OR EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATHS. What a lovely disclaimer.

"What's in the boxes?" I asked.

"A little surprise," Quintus replied. "Training activity for tomorrow night. You'll love it."

"Right," my voice was dry.

Quintus threw the bronze shield, and Mrs. O'Leary lumbered after it. "You young ones need more challenges. They didn't have camps like this when I was a boy."

"You—you're a half-blood?" I didn't mean to sound surprised, but I'd never seen a demigod older than twenty before, though I'd heard of a few. And the thing about camps didn't make sense either. After all, Camp Half-Blood had existed in various incarnations since Ancient Greece. Quintus' comment made no sense.

"Some of us do survive into adulthood, you know," Quintus chuckled. "Not all of us are the subject of terrible prophecies."

I stiffened, my jaw tensing. "You know about my prophecy?"

"I've heard a few things."

I wanted to ask what few things, but just then Chiron clip-clopped into the arena. "Ana, there you are!"

He must've just come from teaching archery. He had a quiver and bow slung over his #1 CENTAUR T-shirt. He'd trimmed his curly brown hair and beard for the summer, and his lower half, which was a white stallion, was flecked with mud and grass.

"I see you've met our new instructor." Chiron's tone was light, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. Due to what? There were many, many, options.

"Quintus, do you mind if I borrow Ana?"

"Not at all, Master Chiron."

"No need to call me 'Master'," Chiron said, though he sounded sort of pleased. "Come, Ana. We have much to discuss."

I took one more glance at Mrs. O'Leary, who was now chewing off the target dummy's legs.

"Bye," I shrugged at Quintus, before replacing Anaklusmos in my hair and hurrying after Chiron. To tell the truth, I was glad to get away from him. Something about the guy made the hair on my arms stand up straight.

As we were walking away, I whispered to Chiron, "Quintus seemed kind of—"

"Mysterious?" Chiron suggested. "Hard to read?"

"Yeah."

Chiron nodded. "A very qualified half-blood. Excellent swordsman, I just wish I understood…"

Whatever he was going to say, he apparently changed his mind. "First things first, Ana. Luke told me you met some empousai."

"Yeah." I told him about the fight at Goode, and how Kelli had exploded into flames.

"Mm," Chiron said. "The more powerful ones can do that. She did not die, Ana. She simply escaped. It is not good that the she-demons are stirring."

"Is it the Great Stirring?" I chewed on my thumbnail, hastily putting my hand back down at Chiron's reproving look.

"I expect so," he sighed. "Many things that were believed lost are returning."

Yeah, I'd heard that before.

"What were they doing there?" I asked. "Waiting for me?"

"Possibly," Chiron frowned. "It is lucky that there were no men around. The empousai can control them even more than females, sometimes even to the point where they make them turn on their loved ones."

"I was paralyzed for a few minutes," I admitted. "If it hadn't been for RED, I'd'a been screwed."

Chiron nodded. "Ironic to be saved by a mortal, yet we owe her a debt. What the empousa said about an attack on camp—we must speak of this further. But for now, come, we should get to the woods. Grover will want you there."

"Where?" I had a feeling I knew the answer, and I felt my heart sinking as Chiron's reply confirmed it.

"At his formal hearing," Chiron declared grimly. "The Council of Cloven Elders is meeting now to decide his fate."

Chiron said we needed to hurry, so he gave me a ride on his back. He plunged into the woods where nymphs peeked out of the trees to watch us pass. Large shapes rustled in the shadows—monsters that were stocked in here as a challenge to the campers. None of them attacked.

I thought I knew the forest pretty well after playing capture the flag here for two years, but Chiron took me a way I didn't recognize, through a tunnel of old willow trees, past a little waterfall, and into a glade blanketed with wildflowers.

A bunch of satyrs were sitting in a circle in the grass. Grover stood in the middle, facing three really old, really fat satyrs who sat on topiary thrones shaped out of rose bushes. I'd never seen the three old satyrs before, but I guessed they must be the famous Council of Cloven Elders.

Grover seemed to be telling them a story. He twisted the bottom of his T-shirt, shifting nervously on his goat hooves. He hadn't changed much since April, when I'd seen him last. His acne had flared up again. His horns had gotten a little bigger so they just stuck out over his curly hair. I realized with a start that I was the same height as he was now.

Standing off to one side of the circle were Luke, Grover's girlfriend Juniper, a tree nymph, and Clarisse. Chiron dropped me next to them.

Clarisse's stringy brown hair was tied back with a camouflage bandanna. If possible, she looked even buffer, like she'd been working out. She gave me a quick nod, but said nothing. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she looked grim and strained. I made a mental note to touch base with her, because it was obvious that something was weighing on her, and I didn't think it was the war. That'd be too simple.

Luke had his arm wrapped around Juniper, who looked like she'd been crying. She was small—petite, I guess you'd call it—with wispy hair the colour of amber and a pretty, elfish face. She wore a green chiton and laced sandals, and she was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "It's going terribly," she sniffled.

"No, no," Luke patted her shoulders. "He'll be fine, Juniper. Don't worry."

"Luke's right," I added my own assurance and pat on the back. "Grover's a hero! He's the reason we retrieved the Fleece and defeated Polyphemus. He'll be fine, I promise. The Council'd be fools to strip his license."

Of course, a universal and inter-species trait of politicians is that they all tend to be power-hungry fools. I didn't say that aloud, of course, but when I met Luke and Clarisse's eyes, I could tell they were thinking it too.

"Master Underwood!" the council member on the right shouted, cutting off whatever Grover was trying to say. "Do you seriously expect us to believe this?"

"B-but Silenus," Grover stammered. "It's the truth!"

The Council guy, Silenus, turned to his colleagues and muttered something. Chiron cantered up to the front and stood next to them. I remembered he was an honorary member of the council, but I'd never thought about it much. The elders didn't look very impressive. They reminded me of the goats in a petting zoo—huge bellies, sleepy expressions, and glazed eyes that couldn't see past the next handful of goat chow.

Still, I understood why Grover was so anxious, regardless of their looks. Lazy politicians or not, they held his dream in their hands. And they clearly weren't in favour of him. My lips thinned, and I glared. Clarisse glanced at my expression and shifted closer, no doubt intending to prevent me massacring the three billy goats if they upset one of my best friends any further.

Silenus tugged his yellow polo shirt over his belly and adjusted himself on his rosebush throne. "Master Underwood, for six months—six months— we have been hearing these scandalous claims that you heard the wild god Pan speak."

"But I did!"

"Impudence!" exclaimed the elder on the left.

"Now, Maron," Chiron soothed. "Patience."

"Patience, indeed!" Maron scoffed. "I've had it up to my horns with this nonsense. As if the wild god would speak to…to him."

I muttered a threat in Ancient Greek under my breath, while Juniper looked like she wanted to charge the old satyr and beat him up. The others exchanged quick looks, before adjusting their positions.

Luke grabbed my wrist, while Clarisse held Juniper back. "Wrong fight, girlie," Clarisse muttered, though to which of us I wasn't sure. "Wait."

As much as I hated it, I knew that Clarisse was right. There was a time and a place for fighting, and now was not that time. Gutting the three councillors would only make things worse in the long run. Right now, I couldn't do anything to help Grover. With great effort (from all four of us), both Juniper and I held back.

"For six months," Silenus continued, "we have indulged you, Master Underwood. We let you travel. We allowed you to keep your searcher's license. We waited for you to bring proof of your preposterous claim. And what have you found in six months of travel?"

"I just need more time," Grover pleaded. It broke my heart to see him so upset.

"Nothing!" the elder in the middle chimed in. "You have found nothing."

"But, Leneus—"

Silenus raised his hand. Chiron leaned in and said something to the satyrs. The satyrs didn't look happy. They muttered and argued among themselves, but Chiron said something else, and Silenus sighed. He nodded reluctantly.

"Master Underwood," Silenus announced, "we will give you one more chance."

Grover brightened. "Thank you!"

"One more week."

"What? But sir! That's impossible!"

"One more week, Master Underwood. And then, if you cannot prove your claims, it will be time for you to pursue another career. Something to suit your dramatic talents. Puppet theatre, perhaps. Or tap dancing."

"But sir, I—I can't lose my searcher's license. My whole life—"

"This meeting of the council is adjourned," Silenus said. "And now let us enjoy our noonday meal!"

The old satyr clapped his hands, and a bunch of nymphs melted out of the trees with platters of vegetables, fruits, tin cans, and other goat delicacies. The circle of satyrs broke and charged the food. Grover walked dejectedly toward us. His faded blue T-shirt had a picture of a satyr on it. It read GOT HOOVES?

"Hi, Ana," he said, so depressed he didn't even lean in to hug me. "That went well, huh?"

"Those old goats!" Juniper cried, flinging her lither arms around him. "Oh, Grover, they don't know how hard you've tried!"

"There is another option," Clarisse pointed out darkly. I frowned in confusion.

"No. No." Juniper shook her head. "Grover, I won't let you."

His face was ashen. "I—I'll have to think about it. But we don't even know where to look."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

In the distance, a conch horn sounded.

Luke grimaced, raking a hand through his hair. "I'll fill you in later, Ana. We'd better get back to our cabins. Inspection is starting."

I wasn't too worried about inspection. In the long run, it ranked really low on my list of priorities, and I wasn't exactly a  _complete_  slob, just a bit lazy when it came to picking up after myself.

Foster care meant two things in this particular area. One: I had a limited amount of stuff. Two: I kept the stuff I cared about hidden. Seeing as I was the only person in my cabin, I typically ended up the high-to-middle range of scoring.

As it so happened, however, I had a huge pile of laundry I'd been neglecting, and Silena was on inspection duty today. She was a tough inspector, with no sympathy. If I didn't want to end up helping to the dishes for everybody in camp with no help except for the harpies, I needed to get those clothes shoved under my bed before she caught a glimpse of them.

I raced toward the commons area, where the twelve cabins—one for each Olympian god—made a U around the central green.

The Demeter kids were sweeping out theirs and making fresh flowers grow in their window boxes. Just by snapping their fingers they could make honeysuckle vines bloom over their doorway and daisies cover their roof. I don't think they ever got last place in inspection.

The guys in the Hermes cabin were scrambling around in a panic, stashing dirty laundry under their beds and accusing each other of taking stuff. Luke groaned and ran over to join them, but I had no empathy for him. They were slobs, but they still had a head start on me, after all. And there were so many of them that, when they focused (which admittedly is rarely) they got the dishes done in two hours, tops.

The Poseidon cabin was at the end of the row of "male god" cabins on the right side of the green. It was made of grey shell-encrusted sea rock, long and low like a bunker, but it had windows that faced the sea and it always had a good breeze blowing through it.

I dashed inside, and I found my half-brother Tyson sweeping the floor.

"Ana!" he bellowed. He dropped his broom and ran at me. If you've never been charged by an enthusiastic Cyclops wearing a flowered apron and rubber cleaning gloves, I'm telling you, it'll wake you up quick.

"Hey, big guy!" I gasped. "Ow, watch the ribs. The ribs."

I managed to survive his bear hug. He put me down, grinning like crazy, his single calf-brown eye full of excitement. His teeth were as yellow and crooked as ever, and his hair was a rat's nest. He wore ragged XXXL jeans and a tattered flannel shirt under his flowered apron, but he was still a sight for sore eyes. I hadn't seen him in almost a year, since he'd gone under the sea to work at the Cyclopes' forges. We'd spoken over IMs, of course, but it just wasn't the same.

"You are okay?" he asked. "Not eaten by monsters?"

"Not even a little bit." I showed him that I still had both arms and both legs, and Tyson clapped happily.

"Yay!" he said. "Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Luke and make things go BOOM!"

I hoped he didn't mean all at the same time, but I told him absolutely, we'd have a lot of fun this summer. I couldn't help smiling, he was so enthusiastic about everything. Tyson was just like a mentally ill child, and so sweet, I always felt so indulgent towards him.

"But first," I continued, "we've gotta worry about inspection. We should…"

Then I looked around and realized Tyson had been busy. The floor was swept. The bunk beds were made. The saltwater fountain in the corner had been freshly scrubbed so the coral gleamed. On the windowsills, Tyson had set out water-filled vases with sea anemones and strange glowing plants from the bottom of the ocean, more beautiful than any flower bouquets the Demeter kids could whip up.

"Tyson, the cabin looks…amazing!"

He beamed. "See the fish ponies? I put them on the ceiling!"

A herd of miniature bronze hippocampi hung on wires from the ceiling, so it looked like they were swimming through the air. It always amazed me that Tyson, with his huge hands, could make things so delicate. Then I looked over at my bunk, and I saw my old shield hanging on the wall.

"You fixed it!"

The shield had been badly damaged last winter. But now it was perfect again—not a scratch. All the bronze pictures of my adventures with Tyson and Luke in the Sea of Monsters were polished and gleaming.

I looked at Tyson with shimmering eyes. I didn't know how to thank him.

Then somebody behind me said, "Oh, my."

Silena Beauregard was standing in the doorway with her inspection scroll. She stepped into the cabin, did a quick twirl, then raised her eyebrows at me. "Well, I had my doubts. But you've raised my expectations Ana. I'll remember this for next time." She winked at me and left the room.

I groaned at the prospect of keeping things like this constantly, then put it to the back of my mind, turning back to Tyson and grinning brightly at him.

The two of us spent the afternoon catching up and just hanging out, which was nice after a morning of getting attacked by demon cheerleaders.

We went down to the forge and Tyson helped Beckendorf with his metalworking. Tyson showed us how he'd learned to craft magic weapons. He fashioned a flaming double-bladed war axe so fast even Beckendorf was impressed.

While he worked, Tyson told us about his year under the sea. His eye lit up when he described the Cyclopes' forges and the palace of Poseidon, but he also told us how tense things were. The old gods of the sea, who'd ruled during Titan times, were starting to make war on our father. When Tyson had left, battles had been raging all over the Atlantic. I bit my lip when I heard that, feeling as if I should be doing more, considering I was technically his kid and all, but Tyson assured me that Poseidon wanted us both at camp.

"Lots of bad people above the sea, too," Tyson pointed out cheerily. "We can make them go boom."

After the forges, we spent some time at the canoe lake with Luke. He was glad to see Tyson, but I could tell that he was distracted. He kept looking over at the forest, like he was thinking about Grover's problem with the council. I couldn't blame him.

Grover was nowhere to be seen, and I felt terrible for him. Finding the lost god Pan had been his lifelong goal. His father and his uncle had both disappeared following the same dream. Last winter, Grover had heard a voice in his head saying  _I await you_ —a voice he was sure belonged to Pan—but his search had led nowhere. If the council took away his searcher's license now, it would crush him.

"What's this 'other way'?" I asked Luke. "The thing Clarisse mentioned?"

Luke shifted, eyes flicking away. The thing about Luke? When he's lying to someone he doesn't care about, he can convince them the sky is green. When he's lying to or hiding something from somebody he cares for however, he's shit.

"Is has something to do with whatever it is that you, Clarisse and Malcolm have been discussing, doesn't it?" They'd been discussing it for months, but I hadn't really been interested, too busy trying to get my head back on straight.

He nodded slowly. "Yes. But it'd be dangerous. Especially for Grover."

"Goat boy scares me," Tyson murmured.

I stared at him. Tyson had faced down fire-breathing bulls and sea monsters and cannibal giants. "Why would you be scared of Grover?"

"Hooves and horns," Tyson muttered nervously, shifting uncomfortably. "And goat fur makes my nose itchy."

And that pretty much ended our Grover conversation.

Before dinner, Tyson and I went down to the sword arena. Quintus seemed glad to have company. He still wouldn't tell me what was in the wooden crates, but he did teach me a few sword moves.

The guy was good. He fought the way some people play chess—like he was putting all the moves together and you couldn't see the pattern until he made the last stroke and won with a sword at your throat. If I had to guess, I'd put money on him being a child of Athena. At the same time, I found it hard to believe a child of a major god could survive so long. Then again, George Washington had been a child of Athena too.

And something about him just seemed off, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was.

"Good try," he complimented me after a managed to graze him. Not enough to actually cut him, though. "But your guard is too low."

He lunged and I blocked.

"Have you always been a swordsman?" I asked, trying to seem casual.

He parried my overhead cut. "I've been many things."

He jabbed and I sidestepped. His shoulder strap slipped down, and I saw that mark on his neck—the purple blotch. But it wasn't a random mark. It had a definite shape—a bird with folded wings, like a quail or something.

"What's that on your neck?" I asked, which was probably a rude question, but you can blame my ADHD. I tend to just blurt things out.

Quintus lost his rhythm. I hit his sword hilt and knocked the blade out of his hand.

He rubbed his fingers. Then he shifted his armour to hide the mark. It wasn't a tattoo, I realized. It was an old burn…like he'd been branded.

"A reminder." He picked up his sword and forced a smile. "Now, shall we go again?"

He pressed me hard, not giving me time for any more questions.

While he and I fought, Tyson played with Mrs. O'Leary, who he called the "little doggie." They had a great time wrestling for the bronze shield and playing Get the Greek. By sunset, Quintus hadn't even broken a sweat, which seemed kind of strange; but Tyson and I were hot and sticky, so we hit the showers and got ready for dinner.

I was feeling good. It was almost like a normal day at camp. Then dinner came, and all the campers lined up by cabin and marched into the dining pavilion. Most of them ignored the sealed fissure in the marble floor at the entrance—a ten-foot-long jagged scar that hadn't been there last summer— but I was careful to step over it.

"Big crack," Tyson said when we were at our table. "Earthquake, maybe?"

"No," I murmured. "Not an earthquake."

I wasn't sure I should tell him. It was a secret only Luke, Grover and I knew. But looking in Tyson's big eye, I knew I couldn't hide it from him.

"Nico di'Angelo," I said, lowering my voice. "He's this half-blood kid we brought to camp last winter. He, uh…he asked Luke to guard his sister on a quest, but she died. Now he blames Luke."

Tyson frowned. "So he put a crack in the floor?"

"They were attacked by skeletons," I corrected him. "Nico defeated them. Nico…" I looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Nico is a son of Hades."

Tyson nodded thoughtfully. "The god of dead people."

"Yeah."

"So the Nico boy is gone now?"

"I—I guess. I tried to search for him this spring. So did Luke. But we didn't have any luck. This is secret, Tyson. Okay? If anyone found out he was a son of Hades, he would be in danger. You can't even tell Chiron."

"The bad prophecy," Tyson said. "Titans might use him if they knew."

I stared at him. Sometimes it was easy to forget that as big and childlike as he was, Tyson was pretty smart. He knew that the next child of the Big Three gods—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades—who turned sixteen was prophesied to either save or destroy Mount Olympus. Most people assumed that meant me, but if I died before I turned sixteen, the prophecy could just as easily apply to Nico. If the rest of the world could hold out long enough, that is.

"Exactly," I said. "So—"

"Mouth sealed," Tyson promised. "Like the crack in the ground."

I had trouble falling asleep that night. I lay in bed listening to the waves on the beach, and the owls and monsters in the woods. I was afraid that once I drifted off I'd have nightmares. Or worse yet, visions. If history held true, I'd be on another quest soon enough, and usually my quest-related visions began shortly before the actual quest. Though I can acknowledge that they can be helpful, in general they just gave some information that was only useful in hindsight, and watching them, unable to interfere, was utterly miserable.

So I wasn't surprised when I was still awake around midnight, staring at the bunk bed mattress above me. I was surprised, however, when I realized there was a strange light in the room. The saltwater fountain was glowing.

I threw off the covers and walked cautiously toward it. Steam rose from the hot salt water. Rainbow colours shimmered through it, though there was no light in the room except for the moon outside. Then a pleasant female voice spoke from the steam:  _Please deposit one drachma_.

I looked over at Tyson, but he was still snoring. He sleeps about as heavily as a tranquilized elephant.

I didn't know what to think. I'd never gotten a collect Iris-message before. One golden drachma gleamed at the bottom of the fountain. I scooped it up and tossed it through the mist. The coin vanished.

"O, Iris, Goddess of the rainbow," I whispered. "Show me…Uh, whatever you need to show me."

The mist shimmered. I saw the dark shore of a river. Wisps of fog drifted across black water. The beach was strewn with jagged volcanic rock. A young boy squatted at the riverbank, tending a campfire. The flames burned an unnatural blue colour. Then I saw the boy's face. I had only spoken to him about twice, but I recognized him anyway.

It was Nico di'Angelo. He was throwing pieces of paper into the fire—Mythomagic trading cards, part of the game he'd been obsessed with last winter.

Nico was only ten, or maybe eleven by now, but he looked older. His hair had grown longer. It was shaggy and almost touched his shoulders. His eyes were dark. His olive skin had turned paler. He wore ripped black jeans and a battered aviator's jacket that was several sizes too big, unzipped over a black shirt. His face was grimy, his eyes a little wild. He looked like a kid who'd been living on the streets. Believe you me, I know what that's like from personal experience.

I waited for him to look at me, or do something at least. But he didn't seem to notice me.

I stayed quiet, not daring to move and attract attention. If he hadn't sent this Iris-message, who had?

Nico tossed another trading card into the blue flames. "Useless," he muttered. "I can't believe I ever liked this stuff."

I sighed, sympathy for him rising in my breast. Poor kid had been through a lot, and real-life had hit him right where it hurts the most.

"A childish game, master," another voice agreed. It seemed to come from near the fire, but I couldn't see who was talking.

Nico stared across the river. On the far shore was black beach shrouded in haze. I recognized it: the Underworld. Nico was camping at the edge of the river Styx. Not exactly one of TripAdvisor's top five tourist locations.

"I've failed," he muttered. "There's no way to get her back."

The other voice kept silent.

Nico turned toward it doubtfully. "Is there? Speak."

Something shimmered. I thought it was just firelight. Then I realized it was the form of a man—a wisp of blue smoke, a shadow. If you looked at him head-on, he wasn't there. But if you looked out of the corner of your eye, you could make out his shape. A ghost.

"It has never been done," the ghost said. "But there may be a way."

"Tell me," Nico commanded. His eyes shined with a fierce light. I wanted to yell at him that you couldn't trust ghosts, especially ones that were being willingly helpful, but I didn't dare risk losing the information.

"An exchange," the ghost explained. "A soul for a soul."

"I've offered!"

"Not yours," the ghost dismissed, kind of rudely in my opinion. "You cannot offer your father a soul he will eventually collect anyway. Nor will he be anxious for the death of his son. I mean a soul that should have died already. Someone who has cheated death."

Nico's face darkened. "Not that again. You're talking about murder."

"I'm talking about justice," the ghost corrected. "Vengeance."

"Those are not the same thing."

The ghost laughed dryly. "You will learn differently as you get older."

Nico stared at the flames. "Why can't I at least summon her? I want to talk to her. She would…she would help me."

" _I_ will help you," the ghost promised. "Have I not saved you many times? Did I not lead you through the maze and teach you to use your powers? Do you want revenge for your sister or not?"

I didn't like the ghost's tone of voice. He reminded me of a kid at one of my old schools, a bully who used to convince other kids to do stupid things like steal lab equipment and vandalize the teachers' cars. The bully never got in trouble himself, but he got tons of other kids suspended.

Nico turned from the fire so the ghost couldn't see him, but I could. A tear traced its' way down his face. It was heartbreaking, and not for the first time I damned the Fates for their cruelty. "Very well. You have a plan?"

"Oh, yes," the ghost said, sounding quite pleased. "We have many dark roads to travel. We must start—"

The image shimmered. Nico vanished. The woman's voice from the mist said,  _Please deposit one drachma for another five minutes._

There were no other coins in the fountain. I grabbed for my pockets, but I was wearing pajamas. I lunged for the nightstand to check for spare change, but the Iris-message had already blinked out, and the room went dark again. The connection was broken.

I stood in the middle of the cabin, listening to the gurgle of the saltwater fountain and the ocean waves outside. I knew exactly three things about the situation.

Nico was alive. He was trying to bring his sister back from the dead. This was not going to go any way except terribly.


	3. I Fall into Blackness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke finally reveals what he and Clarisse have been investigating to Ana.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Three**

**We Fall into Blackness**

The next morning there was a lot of excitement at breakfast.

Apparently around three in the morning an Aethiopian drakon had been spotted at the borders of camp. I was so exhausted I slept right through the commotion, though the alarm summoning everyone to battle hadn't been sounded. Hopefully I'd never sleep through _that_ , 'cause that'd be a big problem.

The magical boundaries had kept the monster out, but it prowled the hills, looking for weak spots in our defences, and it didn't seem anxious to go away until Lee Fletcher, the counsellor for Apollo's cabin led a couple of his siblings in pursuit. After a few dozen arrows lodged in the chinks of the drakon's armour, it got the message and finally withdrew.

"It's still out there," Lee warned us during announcements. "Twenty arrows in its' hide, and we just made it mad. The thing was thirty feet long and bright green. Its' eyes—" he shuddered in horror, and I grimaced in sympathy.

I'd fought a drakon with Katie and Will once, had it had been horrifying to look at. Katie had summoned vines to hold it down while Will shot it in the eyes and I stabbed it in a weak spot in its' scales.

"You did well, Lee," Chiron patted him on the shoulder. "Everyone stay alert, but stay calm. This has happened before."

"Aye," Quintus confirmed from the head table. "And it will happen again. More and more frequently."

The campers murmured among themselves.

Everyone knew the rumours: Annabeth, Ethan and their army of monsters were planning an invasion of the camp. Most of us expected it to happen this summer, but no one knew how or when. It didn't help that our attendance was down. We only had about eighty campers. Three years ago, when I'd first arrived, there had been more over a hundred. Some had died. Some had joined the Titans. Some had just disappeared. Recruitment was low as well.

It was always hard to find half-bloods in time, especially since we couldn't exactly put toddlers on the battlefield, and the Titans were relentless when it came to stopping newly-discovered demigods from reaching camp alive. Several people and their satyr protectors had been killed in the last three months alone. My first year, only one person had died in the entire year, both before and after I had stumbled over the border with Grover. I had always hated numbers.

"This is a good reason for new war games," Quintus continued, a glint in his eyes that made me instantly suspicious. "We'll see how you all do with that tonight."

"Yes…" Chiron murmured. "Well, enough announcements. Let us bless this meal and eat." He raised his goblet. "To the gods."

We all raised our glasses and repeated the blessing.

Tyson and I took our plates to the bronze brazier and scraped a portion of our food into the flames. I hoped the gods liked raisin toast and Froot Loops.

"The gods," I said as always. Most people only dedicated to their parents. I just gave to all the gods in general, whatever my feelings regarding them. Maybe  _because_  of my feelings about them. Then I whispered, "Lady Hestia, please help me with Nico, and the Titans, and Grover..." My relationship with the goddess of the hearth was better than any of the other deities, and I usually asked her for help or guidance when I needed her. She was the only immortal I considered to  _actually_  care about mortals and half-bloods.

There was so much to worry about I could've stood there praying all morning, but I headed back to the table.

Once everyone was eating, Chiron and Grover came over to visit. Grover was bleary-eyed and miserable looking. His shirt was inside out. He slid his plate onto the table and slumped next to me.

Tyson shifted uncomfortably. "I will go…um…polish my fish ponies."

He lumbered off, leaving his breakfast half-eaten.

Chiron tried for a smile. He probably wanted to look reassuring, but in centaur form he towered over me, casting a shadow across the table. "Well, Ana, how did you sleep?"

"Fine," I mumbled, fidgeting with my fork and wondering if he somehow knew about the strange IM I'd gotten.

"I brought Grover over," Chiron said, "because I thought you two might want to, ah, discuss matters. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Iris-messages to send. I'll see you later in the day." He gave Grover a meaningful look, then trotted out of the pavilion. Very subtle.

I turned to Grover, raising an eyebrow as I stabbed a sausage with my fork. "What's he talking about?" I asked him before biting into the sausage.

Grover chewed his eggs. I could tell that he was distracted, because he bit the tips of his fork and chewed those down, too. "He wants you to convince me," he mumbled, looking troubled.

"Of what?"

Somebody else slid next to me on the bench: Luke.

"I'll tell you what it's about," he declared. "The Labyrinth."

It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying, because everybody in the dining pavilion was stealing glances at us and whispering. I hated being the centre of attention, unless I was acting as leader in Capture the Flag or whatever. That's different. And Luke was right next to me. I mean  _right_  next to me. Our arms were brushing against each other. If it were anybody else, I'd've felt trapped.

"You're not supposed to be here," I pointed out to him.

"We need to talk," he insisted, clenching his jaw and drawing his eyebrows close together. "This is important, and on a deadline. We can't put it off."

"Alright," I gave in. Chiron wasn't here, anyway, and Quintus did nothing more than raise an eyebrow before returning to his breakfast. "Go on then."

"Grover is in trouble," Luke stated bluntly. "There's only one way we can figure to help him. It's the Labyrinth. That's what Clarisse and I have been investigating."

I put down my fork, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore as the tale of the Labyrinth ran through my mind. Like most Greek stories, it wasn't pleasant.

"The Labyrinth," I repeated, drumming my fingers on the table. "That's the maze where they kept the Mi-, Pasiphae's son, back in the old days?" I had fought the Minotaur the night I arrived at Camp, and ended up in a three-day-long coma afterwards. The horn I broke off and used to kill it still hung in my cabin.

"Exactly," Luke confirmed.

"So, it moved with the West," I continued. "It's not under Crete anymore, it's somewhere in America."

"It's under all of America, and probably Canada too," Luke corrected me. "It's grown over the centuries, and it's infested with monsters."

"Underground and full of monsters," I murmured. Sounded like it would top TripAdvisor's vacation destinations. Not. "No satyr would ever think to look there for Pan."

"The Labyrinth can lead you almost anywhere," Luke explained. There was a look in his eyes that made me suspicious that he was holding something back. "It reads your thoughts. It was designed to fool you, trick you and kill you; but if you can make the Labyrinth work for you—"

"It could lead you to the wild god," I completed, turning to look at Grover.

"I can't do it." Grover hugged his stomach. "Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up my silverware."

"Grover, it may be your last chance," Luke warned. "The council is serious. One week or you learn to tap dance!"

"Hang on a sec," I interrupted as I thought of something else, patting Grover's arm to comfort him. He was covered in goosebumps. "Why're you and Clarisse looking into it anyway?"

Luke glanced over toward the Ares table. Clarisse was watching us like she knew what we were talking about, but then she fixed her eyes on her breakfast plate.

"Last year," Luke began, lowering his voice so nobody could overhear, "Clarisse went on a mission for Chiron."

"I remember," I said. "It was secret." I'd been worried, especially as she'd gone alone. Ever since her return, she'd been distant and stressed seeming.

Luke nodded. "It was secret," he agreed, "because she found Chris Rodriguez."

"Your brother?" I asked in surprise. Chris was one of the half-bloods who'd abandoned camp and joined the Titan Army. The majority of the defectors were from Cabin 11, which, of course, made sense. That was the cabin where the unclaimed lived, so they had more reason than the rest of us to resent the gods. When I'd been there, only for a month before Poseidon claimed me to clear his name, it had been so full I'd had to share a bunk with Luke, and I wasn't the only person to have been sharing a bunk. I had become convinced that gods didn't give a damn during those weeks, and I knew I wasn't the only one.

His expression tightened as he gave a curt nod. "Yeah," he said, his tone warning that he didn't want to pressed on his feelings regarding the subject. "Last summer he just appeared in Phoenix, Arizona, near Clarisse's mom's house."

"What do you mean he just appeared?"

"He was wandering around the desert, in a hundred and twenty degrees, in full Greek armour, babbling about string."

"String," I repeated my eyebrows going up for a second, before I recalled the story of Theseus and Ariadne again, and my expression turned into a frown again. At this rate, I'd have more wrinkles than a ninety-year-old by Christmas. "Like Ariadne's string? The one Theseus used?"

"He'd been driven completely insane," Luke explained without answering my question, his voice strained.

"Clarisse brought him back to her mom's house so the mortals wouldn't institutionalize him. She tried to nurse him back to health. Chiron came out and interviewed him, but it wasn't much good. The only thing they got out of him: Chase and Nakamura's men have been exploring the Labyrinth."

I shivered, though I wasn't exactly sure why. Poor Chris…he hadn't been a bad guy. What in the maze was so awful that it could've driven him mad? I looked at Grover, who was chewing up the rest of his fork. I swallowed, less than happy at the thought of my best friend going down there. Was tap dancing really  _that_  bad of an option? Seemed like a pretty sweet deal to me right now. Ya know, the whole not going insane from trauma benefits deal and stuff. Still.

"Okay," I swept a loose strand of hair out of my face. "Why were they exploring the Labyrinth?"

"We weren't sure," Luke sighed. "That's why Clarisse went on a scouting expedition. Chiron kept things hushed up because he didn't want anyone panicking. He got me involved because…well, the Labyrinth was always been one of Annabeth's favourite subjects, and I used to help her research it. I'm one of the camp experts on it now."

I didn't dare to touch that mess with a ten-foot-stick. I had never been friends with Annabeth, but Luke had practically raised her. I knew that her betrayal still hurt him, though he pretended not to care. "The builder, Daedalus, was a genius. Athena's brightest child ever. Some people suggested that he might've been descended from Hephaestus too, because of his ability to physically create his inventions, as well as just plan them out.

But the point is, the Labyrinth has entrances  _everywhere_. If Chase and Nakamura could figure out how to navigate it, they could move their army around with incredible speed, and invade without warning. It'd be catastrophic for our side."

"Except it's a maze, right?" I pointed out, my stomach stirring queasily. "And a magical one at that. Figuring out how to get around can't be as simple as always turning left."

"Not if you had Ariadne's string," Luke replied grimly. "You were right, we think that's what Chris meant when he was mumbling about string. In the old days, Ariadne's string guided Theseus out of the maze. It was a navigation instrument of some kind, invented by Daedalus."

"So they're is trying to find Ariadne's string," I reasoned. "Why? What're they planning? An attack on camp?"

Luke shrugged uncertainly. "I don't know. I thought maybe they wanted to invade camp through the maze too, but that doesn't make any sense. The closest entrances Clarisse found were in Manhattan, which wouldn't help them get past our borders. Clarisse explored a little way into the tunnels, but…it was very dangerous. She had some close calls, and she was completely lost. Went in in Manhattan, came out in Ohio a week later, convinced she'd only been a day or so. I researched everything I could find about Daedalus and the Labyrinth itself, all of Annabeth's old notes on them, but it didn't help much. I don't understand what they  _want_."

He raked a hand through his sandy-blonde curls, scowling and making the scar on his face flex. I shifted, a grim thought occurring to me.

"What if there  _is_  an entrance in camp," I suggested in a strained tone. I continued quickly before Luke could speak. "I know that you said that Clarisse didn't find one, but it sounds like she didn't exactly search the entire place, and it's magical. And think about it: Chase, Nakamura and Nico all disappeared from camp without a trace. And so have a bunch of others. Just 'cause Clarisse hasn't found it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

The boys' expressions had darkened in acknowledgement of my words, but neither of them got the chance to say anything.

Over at the head table, Quintus cleared his throat. I got the feeling he didn't want to make a scene, but Luke was really pushing it, sitting at my table so long.

"We'll talk later," Luke squeezed my arm. "Convince him, will you?"

He returned to the Hermes table, ignoring all the people who were staring at him with ease.

I blinked in confusion for a second before recalling the original topic of discussion before we'd started discussing the possibility of our home being invaded.

Grover buried his head in his hands. "I can't do it, Ana. My searcher's license. Pan. I'm going to lose it all. I'll have to start a puppet theatre."

"Don't be ridiculous," I dismissed the possibility. "We'll figure something out."

He looked at me teary-eyed. "Ana, you're my best friend. You've seen me underground. In that Cyclops' cave. Do you really think I could…"

His voice faltered. I remembered the Sea of Monsters, when he'd been stuck in a Cyclops' cave. He'd never liked underground places to begin with, but now Grover really hated them. Cyclopes gave him the creeps, too. Even Tyson…Grover tried to hide it, but Grover and I could read each other's emotions because of this empathy link between us. I knew how he felt. Grover was terrified of Tyson.

"I have to leave," Grover said miserably. "Juniper's waiting for me. It's a good thing she finds cowards attractive." I opened my mouth to try and comfort him, but he left before I had the chance to figure out what.

After he was gone, I looked over at Quintus. He nodded gravely, like we were sharing some dark secret. Then he went back to cutting his sausage with a Celestial bronze dagger.

In the afternoon, I went down to the Pegasus stables to visit my friend Blackjack. Being around horses and other equines often soothed me. They had no sinister motives, nor did they expect me to save the world because of my genetics. They just wanted sweets and pats.

_Yo, boss-lady!_ He capered around in his stall, his black wings buffeting the air. _Ya bring me some sugar cubes?_ Exhibit A.

"You know those aren't good for you, Blackjack."

_Yeah, so you brought me some, huh?_

I smiled and fed him a handful. Blackjack and I went back a long way. I sort of helped rescue him from Chase and Nakamura's who had been beating him a few years ago. Afterwards, he'd tracked me down and offered his services as my personal pegasi to repay me. I'd refused, but he'd stayed and only let me care for and ride him anyway. Out of all the pegasi at camp, I was closest to him.

_So we got any quests coming up?_ Blackjack asked. _I'm ready to fly, boss-lady!_

I patted his nose. "Not sure. Everybody keeps talking about underground mazes."

Blackjack whinnied nervously.  _Nuh-uh. Not for this horse! You aint gonna be crazy enough to go in no maze, boss-lady. Are ya? You'll end up in the glue factory!_

"You may be right, Blackjack. We'll see."

Blackjack crunched down his sugar cubes. He shook his mane like he was having a sugar seizure.  _Whoa! Good stuff! Well, boss-lady, you come to your senses and want to fly somewhere, just give a whistle. Ole Blackjack and his buddies, we'll stampede anybody for ya!_

I told him I'd keep it in mind. Then a group of younger campers came in with Silena to start their riding lessons, and I decided it was time to leave. I had a sinking feeling I wasn't going to see Blackjack for a long time.

That night after dinner, Quintus had us suit up in combat armour like we were getting ready for capture the flag, but the mood among the campers was a lot more serious. Sometime during the day the crates in the arena had disappeared, and I had a feeling whatever was in them had been emptied into the woods.

"Right," Quintus said, standing on the head dining table. "Gather 'round."

He was dressed in black leather and bronze. In the torchlight, his grey hair made him look like a ghost. Mrs. O'Leary bounded happily around him, foraging for dinner scraps.

"You will be in teams of two," Quintus announced. When everybody started talking and trying to grab their friends, he yelled: "Which have already been chosen!"

"AWWWWW!" everybody complained.

"Your goal is simple: collect the gold laurels without dying. The wreath is wrapped in a silk package, tied to the back of one of the monsters. There are six monsters. Each has a silk package. Only one holds the laurels. You must find the wreath before the other teams. And, of course…you will have to slay the monster to get it, and stay alive."

The crowd started murmuring excitedly. The task sounded pretty straightforward. Hey, we'd all slain monsters before. That's what we trained for.

"I will now announce your partners," Quintus went on. "There will be no trading. No switching. No complaining."

"Aroooof!" Mrs. O'Leary buried her face in a plate of pizza.

Quintus produced a big scroll and started reading off names. Beckendorf would be with Silena, which they both looked pretty happy about. Not surprising, both of them had been flirting like mad for months. The Stoll brothers, of course, would also be together.

That was no surprise. They did everything together. If Quintus had tried to separate them, they would probably mutiny.

Clarisse was with Lee Fletcher from the Apollo cabin—melee and ranged combat combined, they would be a tough combo to beat. Quintus kept rattling off the names until he said, "Ana Jackson with Luke Castellan."

Several others groaned while Luke and I smirked and high-fived each other. We rarely lost when we teamed up together. In fact, I don't think we've ever lost.

"Grover Underwood," Quintus continued, "with Tyson."

Grover just about jumped out of his goat fur. "What? B-but—"

"No, no," Tyson whimpered. "Must be a mistake. Goat boy—"

"No complaining!" Quintus ordered. "Get with your partner. You have two minutes to prepare!"

Tyson and Grover both looked at me pleadingly. I gave them an encouraging nod, and gestured that they should move together, mouthing that it would be fine. Tyson sneezed. Grover started chewing nervously on his wooden club. I bit my lip, and Luke gave me a reassuring squeeze around the shoulders.

"They'll be fine," he told. "Come on. Let's get started kicking everybody's ass."

I laughed and grinned. "Sounds good to me."

It was still light when we got into the woods, but the shadows from the trees made it feel like midnight. It was cold, too, even in summer. Luke and I found tracks almost immediately—scuttling marks made by something with a lot of legs. We began to follow the trail.

We jumped a creek and heard some twigs snapping nearby. We crouched behind a boulder, but it was only the Stolls tripping through the woods and cursing. Luke rolled his eyes, and I had no doubt that he was holding back a sigh. Their dad was the god of thieves, but those two were about as stealthy as buffaloes, no matter how hard Luke worked with them on it.

Once the Stolls had passed, we forged deeper into the west woods where the monsters were wilder. We were standing on a ledge overlooking a marshy pond when Luke tensed, guilt flashing over his face. "This is where we stopped looking," he stated.

For a moment, my mind was blank and it took me a few seconds to realize what he meant.

Last winter, when we'd finally given up hope of finding him after hours of searching, Grover, Luke, and I had stood on this rock, and we'd agreed not to tell Chiron the truth: that Nico was a son of Hades. At the time it seemed the right thing to do. We wanted to protect his identity. Luke wanted to be the one to find him and make things right for what had happened to his sister. Now, six months later, none of us had even come close to finding him.

I knew Luke blamed himself, for making a promise to try and keep Bianca alive in the first place, for coming up with the plan that killed her, and for being the quest leader when she died. He couldn't have controlled any of it of course. He had never sworn to keep Bianca alive at all costs, after all, and the Fates were the ones who decided if someone lived or died. But I was personally familiar with Survivor's Guilt, and emotions didn't work on logic.

"I saw him last night," I admitted.

Luke looked at me in confusion. "What do you mean?"

I told him about the Iris-message. When I was done, he stared into the shadows of the woods with a troubled look. "He's summoning the dead? That's not good."

"The advice he's listening to is even worse," I replied darkly, leaning on my sword. "Nothing good ever comes from trying to bring back the dead. And who's this spirit that he's going to trade for Bianca? Someone who should be dead describes pretty much every demigod alive."

"Yeah…spirits are never good advisers," Luke said slowly. "They've got their own agendas. Old grudges. And they resent the living."

"The spirit mentioned a maze," I recalled, biting my lip.

Luke scowled in unhappiness. "That settles it. We  _have_  to figure out the Labyrinth. It's at the centre of all of this, I'm sure of it."

"Maybe," I agreed uncomfortably. "But who sent the Iris-message? Nico doesn't know me, and neither of them knew I was there—"

A branch snapped in the woods. Dry leaves rustled. Something large was moving in the trees, just beyond the ridge. We both went silent, raising our weapons and scanning our surroundings with narrow eyes.

"That's not my brothers," Luke whispered.

We exchanged a look, and then moved forward together.

We ended up at Zeus' Fist, a huge pile of boulders in the middle of the west woods. It was a natural landmark where campers often rendezvoused on hunting expeditions, but now there was nobody around.

"Over there," Luke whispered.

"No, wait," I said. "Behind us."

It was weird. Scuttling noises seemed to be coming from several different directions. We were circling the boulders, our swords drawn, when someone right behind us chirruped a bright, "Hi."

We whirled around, and Juniper yelped.

"Put those down!" she protested. "Dryads don't like sharp blades, okay?"

"Juniper," I exhaled in relief. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

For a second of stupidity I thought she meant she lived in the boulders, then I glanced around again and spotted the juniper tree. Obviously, she meant she lived in the tree that was her namesake. Thank the gods I didn't blurt out my first thought. I hated looking like an idiot.

"Are you guys busy?" Juniper asked, fidgeting with her dress.

"Well," Luke drawled, keeping a sharp eye on our surroundings, "we're in the middle of this game against a bunch of monsters and we're trying not to die."

"So no, we're not busy," I shot her a smile. It wasn't as if fighting for our lives wasn't a daily thing, after all. Juniper was Grover's girlfriend, and he really liked her. I'd been putting in a lot of effort to be friendly with her. "What's wrong, Juniper? Are you alright?"

Juniper sniffled. She wiped her silky sleeve under her eyes. "It's Grover. He seems so distraught. All year he's been out looking for Pan. And every time he comes back, it's worse. I thought maybe, at first, he was seeing another tree."

"No," I denied the mere thought immediately as Juniper started crying. Careful to keep my blade away from her, I reached over to give her a hug. "That's not it."

"He had a crush on a blueberry bush once," Juniper said miserably.

"Juniper," I insisted, "Grover would never even look at another tree. He adores you! He's just really stressed out about his searcher's license."

"He can't go underground!" she protested. "You can't let him."

I shifted, feeling uncomfortable with the thought myself. That being said, I was intimately familiar with doing stuff you didn't like for the long-term benefits. "It might be the only way to help him," I pointed out carefully.

"If we just knew where to start," Luke grumbled.

"Ah." Juniper wiped a green tear off her cheek. "About that…"

Another rustle in the woods, and Juniper yelled, "Hide!"

Before I could ask why, she went poof into green mist.

Luke and I turned. Coming out of the woods was a glistening amber insect, ten feet long, with jagged pincers, an armoured tail, and a stinger as long as my sword. A scorpion. Tied to its' back was a red silk package.

"One of us gets behind it," Luke said, as the thing clattered toward us. "Cuts off its' tail while the other distracts it in front."

"I'll take point," I replied. "You're better at sneaking up on things than I am."

He nodded. We'd fought together so many times we knew each other's moves by heart. We could do this, easy. But it all went wrong when the other two scorpions appeared from the woods.

"Three?" Luke exclaimed. "That's not possible! The whole woods, and half the monsters come at us?"

I swallowed, cursing my strong scent and Tyche's apparent hatred for me. One, we could take easily. Two, with a little luck. Three? That was pushing it.

The scorpions scurried toward us, whipping their barbed tails like they'd come here just to kill us. Luke and I ended up our backs against the nearest boulder. Trapped between stone and death.

"Climb?" I suggested tensely.

"No time," he answered grimly.

"Shit."

He was right. The scorpions were already surrounding us. They were so close I could see their hideous mouths foaming with yellowish saliva, anticipating a nice juicy meal of demigods.

"Look out!" Luke parried away a stinger with the flat of her blade. I stabbed with Anaklusmos, but the scorpion backed out of range just in time. We clambered sideways along the boulders, but the scorpions followed us. I slashed at another one, but going on the offensive was too dangerous. If I went for the body, the tail stabbed downward. If I went for the tail, the thing's pincers came from either side and tried to grab me. All we could do was defend, and we wouldn't be able to keep that up for very long.

I took another step sideways, and suddenly there was nothing behind me. It was a crack between two of the largest boulders, something I'd passed by a million times, but…

"In here," I ordered.

Luke sliced at a scorpion then gave me a look of disbelief. "In there? We'll never fit. It's too narrow."

"I'll cover you. Go!"

He ducked behind me and started squeezing between the two boulders. Then he yelped and grabbed my armour straps, and suddenly I was tumbling with a shriek into a pit that hadn't been there a moment before. I could see the scorpions above us, the purple evening sky and the trees, and then the hole shut like the lens of a camera, and we were in complete darkness.

Our breathing echoed loudly against stone. It was wet and cold. I was sitting on a bumpy floor that seemed to be made of bricks. My head ached in a familiar way that alerted me to the newest in a long line of concussions. When I touched the sore spot, I felt blood. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be too much.

I lifted Anaklusmos. The faint glow of the blade was just enough to illuminate Luke's wide eyes and the mossy stone walls on either side of us.

"Where are we?" Luke croaked, his face pale. Then his gaze sharpened. "Ariel, are you alright?"

I couldn't hear him properly. As a daughter of the god of the sea, I had never done well with enclosed spaces. It had been worse since last winter. After Artemis had taken the sky from me, I had been chained up in a small alcove. Every so often, someone (or thing) would come by. Despite the taunting feeling of my hairpin/sword in my hair, I could do nothing, chained to the wall by Celestial Bronze chains as I had been.

I couldn't breathe, it was as if I was back there all over again. I gasped for breath, the edges of my vision starting to go dark.

"Ana! Ana, come on, stay with me," Luke cut through my panic, and I returned to the present, my breath still shaky. Luke had put down his sword and was gripping my forearms tightly, looking worried.

"I'm fine," I croaked out. "I'm okay." Luke looked doubtful, but he released my arms and stepped back, scooping up his sword and scanning the dark area.

"Where are we?"

I lifted my sword again for light.

"It's a long room," I muttered.

Luke shook his head. "It's not a room. It's a corridor."

He was right the darkness felt…emptier in front of us. There was a warm breeze, like in subway tunnels, only it felt older, more dangerous somehow.

Luke started to move forward, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. "Don't take another step," I ordered, not quite able to hide the tremble of fear in my voice. "We need to find the exit."

"It's okay," Luke promised. "It's right—"

He looked up and realized what I had already noticed. Neither of us could see where we'd fallen in. The ceiling was solid stone. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions.

Luke's hand slipped into mine. It was a relief to know where he was. It was about the only thing I was sure of, and it let me remember how to breathe.

"Two steps back," he advised.

We stepped backward together like we were in a minefield.

"Okay," he said, his own tone filled with tension. "Help me examine the walls."

"What for?"

"The mark of Daedalus," he said, as if I was supposed to understand that.

"Uh, okay. What kind of—"

"Got it!" he cut me off with relief. He set his hand on the wall and pressed against a tiny fissure, which began to glow blue. A Greek symbol appeared: Δ, the Ancient Greek Delta.

The roof slid open and we saw night sky, stars blazing. It was a lot darker than it should've been. Metal ladder rungs appeared in the side of the wall, leading up, and I could hear people yelling our names.

"Ana! Luke!" Tyson's voice bellowed the loudest, but others were calling out too.

Luke and I looked nervously at each other. Then we began to climb.

We made our way around the rocks and ran into Clarisse and a bunch of other campers carrying torches.

"Where have you two been?" Clarisse demanded. "We've been looking forever."

"But we were gone only a few minutes," I protested.

Chiron trotted up, followed by Tyson and Grover.

"Ana!" Tyson cried. "You are okay?"

"We're fine," I smiled a strained smile at him. "We fell in a hole."

The others looked at me sceptically, then at Luke.

"Honest!" I insisted. "There were three scorpions after us, so we ran and hid in the rocks. But we were only gone for a few minutes."

"You've been missing for almost an hour," Chiron replied. "The game is over."

"Yeah," Grover muttered. "We would've won, but a Cyclops sat on me."

"Was an accident!" Tyson protested, and then he sneezed.

Clarisse was wearing the gold laurels, but she didn't even brag about winning them, which wasn't like her. I mean, she's my friend and all, but I'm not blind to my friends' flaws just because they're my friends.

"A hole?" she repeated suspiciously.

Luke inhaled deeply, looking around at the other campers. "Chiron…maybe we should talk about this at the Big House."

Clarisse gasped. "You found it, didn't you?"

Luke grimaced and nodded. "I—Yeah. Yeah, we did."

A bunch of campers started asking questions, looking about as confused as I felt, but Chiron raised his hand for silence. "Tonight is not the right time, and this is not the right place." He stared at boulders as if he'd just noticed how dangerous they were. "All of you, back to your cabins. Get some sleep. A game well played, but curfew is past!"

There was a lot of mumbling and complaints, but the campers drifted off, talking among themselves and giving us suspicious and worried looks.

"This explains a lot," Clarisse said. "It explains what Chase and Nakamura are after. They must have escaped through it when they defected."

"Wait a second," I interrupted. "What do you mean? What did we find?"

Luke turned toward me, his eyes almost navy with worry. "An entrance to the Labyrinth. An invasion route straight into the heart of the camp."


	4. I Visit a Familiar (Un)Dead Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war council organizes a quest into the Labyrinth.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Four**

**I Visit a Familiar (Un)Dead Person**

Chiron had insisted we talk about it in the morning, which was kind of like,  _Hey, your life and home are in mortal danger. Sleep tight!_  It was hard to fall asleep, but when I finally did, I dreamed of a prison. No doubt it was the first of many dream visions that would give me vague and frustrating hints about the situation and its' history.

There was a young boy in an Ancient Greek tunic and sandals crouching alone in a massive stone room. The ceiling was open to the night sky, but the walls were twenty feet high and polished marble, completely smooth. Scattered around the room were wooden crates. Some were cracked and tipped over, as if they'd been flung in there. Bronze tools spilled out of one—a compass, a saw, and a bunch of other things that I sure as Hades didn't recognize, but the members of Cabin 9 and 6 probably would.

The boy huddled in the corner, shivering from cold, or maybe fear. He was spattered in mud. His legs, arms, and face, were scraped up as if he'd been dragged here along with the boxes. It was a pathetic, fury-inducing scene.

Then the double oak doors moaned open. Two guards in bronze armour marched in, holding an old man between them. They flung him to the floor in a battered heap. He groaned, and I could tell that he must have been tortured.

"Father!" The boy ran to him. The man's robes were in tatters. His hair was streaked with grey, and his beard was long and curly. His nose had been broken. His lips were bloody. It was a terrible thing for a loving son to witness, and I wished I could grab the boy and hide his face in my stomach to shield him from the terrible sight. Or at least to kill the two guards who clearly had no qualms killing a man.

The boy took the old man's head in his arms. "What did they do to you?" Then he turned to yell at the guards. "I'll kill you!" He had spirit, despite his obvious fear.

"There will be no killing today," a voice, cold and distantly familiar, declared icily.

The guards moved aside. Behind them stood a tall man in white robes. He wore a thin circlet of gold on his head. His beard was pointed like a spear blade. His grey eyes glittered cruelly. "You helped the Athenian kill my Minotaur, Daedalus. You turned my own daughter against me."

I crinkled my brow, trying to remember the name of the king in the myth. All I could recall was that he was king of Crete, and his daughter who aided Theseus only to later be abandoned and marry Dionysus was named Ariadne.

"You did that yourself, Your Majesty," the old man, Daedalus, croaked.

A guard planted a kick in the old man's ribs. He groaned in agony.

"Stop!" the young boy cried.

"You love your maze so much," the king said, "I have decided to let you stay here. This will be your workshop. Make me new wonders. Amuse me. Every maze needs a monster. You will be mine!"

"I don't fear you," the old man groaned.

The king smiled coldly. He locked his eyes on the boy. "But a man cares about his son, eh? Displease me, old man, and the next time my guards inflict a punishment, it will be on him!"

The king swept out of the room with his guards, and the doors slammed shut, leaving the boy and his father alone in the darkness.

"What shall we do?" the boy moaned. "Father, they will kill you!"

The old man swallowed with difficulty. He tried to smile, but it was a gruesome sight with his bloody mouth.

"Take heart, my son." He gazed up at the stars. "I—I will find a way."

A bar lowered across the doors with a fatal BOOM, and I woke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath and shaking.

I was still feeling the effects of the dream the next morning when Chiron called a war council. We met in the sword arena instead of the rec room like usual, which I thought was pretty strange— trying to discuss the fate of the camp while Mrs. O'Leary chewed on a life-size Greek-warrior dummy.

Seeing the stuffing coming out of its' torn stomach made me feel more than a little disturbed.

Chiron and Quintus stood at the front by the weapon racks. As the pair with the most knowledge of the Labyrinth, Clarisse and Luke sat next to each other and led the briefing. Tyson and Grover sat as far away from each other as possible. Also present around the table that had been set up: Juniper, Silena, Beckendorf, my friend Malcolm who was the counsellor for the Athena kids, Lee Fletcher from the Apollo cabin, and even Argus, our hundred-eyed security chief.

If I hadn't already known the importance of our discovery, that alone would have told me that it was serious. Argus hardly ever shows up to meetings unless something really major is going on. The whole time Luke spoke, he kept his hundred blue eyes trained on her so hard his whole body turned bloodshot.

"Annabeth must have known about the Labyrinth entrance," Luke said, playing with a dagger and frowning deeply. "She researched everything that could be found about the maze. It bordered on obsession for her. Daedalus was her idol."

He kept his expression and tone even as he spoke, like she hadn't been the centre of his existence for years. I couldn't tell what he was thinking and that worried me. It was a rare occasion that I couldn't read Luke Castellan like an open book. Better, even, what with my dyslexia and all.

Juniper cleared her throat, drawing my attention back to the meeting. "That's what I was trying to tell you last night. The cave entrance has been there a long time. Annabeth and Ethan used to use it, in the year before they... Left."

Silena and I both frowned. "You knew about the Labyrinth entrance, and you didn't say anything?" Silena demanded, before I got the chance.

Juniper's face turned green in a blush of embarrassment. "I didn't know it was important. Just a cave. I don't like yucky old caves."

"She has good taste," Grover muttered.

"I wouldn't have paid any attention except…well, it was Ethan." She blushed a little greener. I hid an eye-roll, wondering why so many of girls at camp thought Ethan Nakamura was remotely attractive.

Grover huffed. "Forget what I said about good taste." I had to agree with him there. I was surprised anyone found Ethan Nakamura attractive really, what with him being a psychotic murderer intent on destroying all of Western Civilization and all. That sort of thing tended to put me off, but maybe that was just me.

"Interesting," Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. "And you believe this pair, Annabeth and Ethan, would dare use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?"

"Definitely," Clarisse confirmed firmly. "If they could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about our magical boundaries, we wouldn't stand a chance. They could wipe us out easy. They must've been planning this for months."

"Maybe longer, if they've known about it so long," I commented. I tried to remember if any mention had been made of the Labyrinth or an invasion during my captivity, but I'd been so focused on ignoring everything that was happening to stay sane, I'd barely understood what was happened. My injuries hadn't helped. I realized that I was scratching at my arm, the same one that still ached from Atlas shattering it, and hastily stopped, hoping that no one had noticed.

"They've been sending scouts into the maze," Luke pointed out. "We know because…because we found one."

"Chris Rodriguez," Chiron added. He gave Quintus a meaningful look.

"Ah," Quintus said. "The one in the…Yes, I understand."

I wanted to ask what they meant, but it wasn't the time, so I let it be.

"The point is, Annabeth and Ethan have been looking for a way to navigate the maze," Clarisse said. "They're searching for Daedalus' workshop."

I remembered my dream the night before—the bloody old man in tattered robes. "The guy who created the maze."

"Yes," Luke nodded, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of stress. "The greatest inventor of all time. If the legends are true, his workshop is in the centre of the Labyrinth.

He's the only one who knew how to navigate the maze perfectly. If Chase and Nakamura managed to find the workshop and convince Daedalus to help them, they wouldn't have to fumble around searching for paths, or risk losing his army in the maze's traps. They could navigate anywhere he wanted—quickly and safely. First to Camp Half-Blood to wipe us out. Then…to Olympus."

I swallowed. "But the Labyrinth is underground," I pointed out weakly, already sure that there was some way around this problem. "Wouldn't that keep them from getting to Olympus, at least?"

Chiron shook his head solemnly. "There is always a way," he replied grimly.

The arena was silent except for Mrs. O'Leary's toy Greek getting disembowelled: SQUEAK! SQUEAK! I felt my stomach churn as I stared at the headless dummy.

Finally Beckendorf put his huge hands on the table. "Back up a sec. Luke, you said 'convince Daedalus'? Isn't Daedalus dead?"

Quintus grunted. "I would hope so. He lived, what, three thousand years ago? And even if he were alive, don't the old stories say he fled from the Labyrinth?"

"If he's alive, then he's in hiding from Hades and Thanatos," I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "From the sounds of it, the Labyrinth would be a good place for him to lie low, if he's really able to navigate it. Still, how would he be alive after all this time? Demigods barely live to their twenties for the most part, never mind their thousands."

It was a very depressing, but very true, fact. And the thought of a half-blood somehow living for thousands of years with the aid of the gods made my skin crawl. That was  _not_ natural, and had to involve some twisted ritual or something. I loathed that sort of thing.

Chiron clopped restlessly on his hooves. "That's the problem. No one knows. There are rumours…well, there are many disturbing rumours about Daedalus, but one is that he disappeared back into the Labyrinth toward the end of his life. He might still be there."

I thought about the old man I'd seen in my dreams. He'd looked so frail, it was hard to believe he'd lasted another week, much less three thousand years. That being said, parents could find a great deal of strength when it came to their children being in danger, as Daedalus' son had been. Mom had used the last of strength to pull me from our destroyed car before her death. I flinched away from the memory, and started scratching my wrist again.

"We need to go in," Luke announced heavily, meeting my worried gaze. "We have to find the workshop before the others do. If Daedalus is alive, we have to convince him to help us, not Chase and Nakamura. If Ariadne's string still exists, we make sure it never falls into their hands."

"Wait a second," I protested. "If we're worried about an attack, why not just blow up the entrance? Seal the tunnel?"

"Great idea!" Grover chirruped. "I'll get the dynamite!"

"It's not that easy," Clarisse growled, looking bitter. "We tried that at the entrance we found in Phoenix. It didn't go well."

Luke nodded. "The Labyrinth is magical, Ana. It would take huge power to seal even one of its' entrances. In Phoenix, Clarisse demolished a whole building with a wrecking ball, and the maze entrance just shifted a few feet. The best we can do is prevent Chase and Nakamura from learning to navigate the Labyrinth."

I slumped in disappoint, though truthfully I hadn't expected it to be that easy. Nothing ever was for demigods.

"We could fight," Lee insisted, leaning in to emphasize his point. "We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a defensive line and wait for them. If an army tries to come through, they'll find us waiting with our bows."

"We will certainly set up defences," Chiron agreed. "But I fear that Clarisse is right. The magical borders have kept this camp safe for hundreds of years. If Annabeth and Ethan manage to get a large army of monsters into the centre of camp, bypassing our boundaries…we may not have the strength to defeat them."

Nobody looked happy about that news. Chiron usually tried to be upbeat and optimistic. If he was predicting we couldn't hold off an attack, that wasn't good.

"We have to get to Daedalus' workshop first," Luke insisted, jaw clenched. "Find Ariadne's string and prevent Chase and Nakamura from using it."

"But if nobody can navigate in there," I said, "what chance do we have?"

"I'm the son of Hermes, and I spent years helping Annabeth research the thing. I know more about it than anybody else in the camp."

"That's not enough."

"We don't have another choice."

"Then we need to figure one out."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

I realized everyone was watching Luke and I arguing like it was a tennis match. Mrs. O'Leary's squeaky toy went EEK! as she ripped off its' pink rubber head.

"Of course," I sighed, crossing my arms and looking away. My heart hadn't been in the argument really.

Gods, I didn't feel ready for this. I was still a wreck from last winter. But I couldn't,  _wouldn't_ , let Camp be destroyed.

Chiron cleared his throat. "First things first. We need a quest. Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Annabeth and Ethan from using the maze to invade this camp."

"Luke should be leader," Clarisse declared.

There was a murmur of agreement.

Luke had led two quests before, both of which had resulted in the deaths of two of his companions, so I wasn't surprised that he looked uncomfortable. He'd already told me that he never wanted to lead a quest again.

"You've done as much as I have, Clarisse," he protested. "You should go, too."

Clarisse shook her head. "I'm not going back in there." Her eyes were wide and her shoulders were tense.

"Clarisse," I began, but she cut me off.

"NO! I'm never going in there again. Never!"

She stormed out of the arena.

There was silence for a moment, before Luke turned to me. "Then it should be you." I wanted to object, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. Luke didn't want to be the one to lead another quest. Not after his last two. I knew that he would go, because, as he himself had said, he had the best chance of navigating it. But he couldn't lead it.

My shoulders slumped and I nodded silently. "I'll go to the Oracle, if no one objects?" My gaze flickered over the others, silently hoping that somebody would protest or volunteer. Nobody did, and Chiron gave me a strained smile.

"No time to lose, my dear," he urged me gently, and I gave another curt nod, pushing myself out of my chair. I left the arena, heading for the Big House, without another word.

The Oracle's attic lair was just as I remembered it. I pulled on the cord to bring down the ladder, and climbed up into the dark room.

The warm air smelled like mildew and rotten wood and snakes.

The attic was filled with the same junk it had been last time: armour stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying where they'd come from. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled monster parts. There was a dusty mounted trophy on the wall that looked like a giant snake's head, but with horns and a full set of shark's teeth. The plaque read, HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N.Y., 1969.

I shuddered, recalling my own encounter with the multi-headed snake. It hadn't been pleasant.

Finally, I could delay no longer. Reluctantly, I turned to the window, and there she was. Sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy. Not the Egyptian kind, but a human female body shrivelled to a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits, as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles. Supposedly, she had been like this since the 1940s at least.

I licked my dry lips, despite the fact that the inside of my mouth was as dry as my lips were, and stepped forward, trying to decide how to phrase my request.

Green smoke came out of the Oracle's suddenly open mouth and swirled around me before forming an image of Daedalus' son.

"I am the Oracle of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python," she rasped the exact same words that I still vividly recalled from my last visit. It was disturbing to hear her reptilian voice coming from such a small young boy.

"How can I save Camp Half-Blood from the invasion?" I croaked out, shivering in discomfort at the goosebumps on my arms.

The boy opened his mouth and spoke again, while I resisted the urge to flee.

" _You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze,_

_The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise._

_You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand,_

_The child of Athena's final stand._

_Destroy with a hero's final breath,_

_And witness a fate worse than death."_

I couldn't control myself any longer. Even as the Oracle's smoke began to dissipate, I was scrambling back down the ladder, shaking and replaying the awful words in my head.

"My dear," Chiron said when I returned to the arena after regaining control of myself. "You made it."

I looked at Luke first. I couldn't even tell myself it I was trying to warn him, or if I was just desperately seeking reassurance. He gave me an encouraging smile, but I could see a troubled look in his eye.

I turned away and looked at Chiron. "I got the prophecy. I will lead the quest to find Daedalus' workshop."

Nobody cheered, but I wasn't offended. They were my friends, and everybody knew that I wasn't exactly doing well lately. Plus, this was a serious situation, with our home and only safe haven being threatened. There was no reason for celebration. Except maybe that I had survived the visit with my sanity intact.

Chiron scraped a hoof on the dirt floor. "What did the prophecy say exactly, my dear? The wording is important."

I took a deep breath. "I, ah…well, it said, you shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze..."

Everyone was quiet as they waited for me to continue.

"The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise."

Grover perked up. "The lost one! That must mean Pan! That's great!"

"With the dead and the traitor," I reminded him glumly. "Not so great."

"And?" Chiron asked. "What is the rest?"

"You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand," I reluctantly continued, I bit my lip before forcing myself to finish. "the child of Athena's final stand."

Everyone looked around uncomfortably. Malcolm inhaled sharply, his storm-cloud eyes widening in worry, both for himself and his siblings. I couldn't blame him. A final stand didn't sound good.

"Hey…we shouldn't jump to conclusions," Silena said. "Malcolm isn't the only child of Athena, right?"

"Maybe it's Annabeth," Luke offered, expression tight.

"But who's this ghost king?" Beckendorf asked.

No one answered. I thought about the Iris-message I'd seen of Nico summoning spirits. I had a bad feeling the prophecy was connected to that, but I didn't dare to say anything and put him at risk.

"Are there more lines?" Chiron asked me, furrowing his eyebrows. "The prophecy does not sound complete."

I hesitated, not wanting to say anymore. It had been the same way the first time I'd gotten a prophecy from the Oracle. "I don't remember exactly." It was a lie, and I looked down at my lap to avoid catching someone's eye and being called out on it.

I shifted on my bench, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "Something about…Destroy with a hero's final breath."

"And?" Chiron pressed me, but I couldn't say the rest.

I leapt to my feet. "Look, the point is, I have to go in. I'll find the workshop and stop Chase and Nakamura. And…I need help." I turned to Luke. "Will you come?"

He didn't hesitate for a second. "Like you could keep me away, Ariel. After all, you'd be lost without me." He flashed a cocky grin at me, though it didn't reach his anxious eyes.

I smiled for what felt like the first time in days, if not months, and turned to my other best friend. "Grover, you too? The wild god is waiting."

Grover seemed to forget how much he hated the underground. The line about the "lost one" had completely energized him, and he was beaming with excitement. "I'll pack extra recyclables for snacks!"

I turned to the last companion that I had decided on during my return from the attic. "And Tyson," I said warmly. "I'll need you too."

"Yay! Blow-things-up time!" Tyson clapped so hard he woke up Mrs. O'Leary, who was dozing in the corner.

"Wait, Ana," Chiron objected. "This goes against the ancient laws. A hero is allowed only two companions."

"I need them all," I insisted. "Chiron, it's important."

It was. I didn't know why I was so sure that I needed all three of my boys to come with me, but I knew that I did. After all these years of street-life and living out a modern day Greek tragedy, I had learned to trust my instincts about things.

Chiron flicked his tail nervously. "Ana, consider your choices well. You would be breaking the ancient laws, and there are always consequences to doing such things. Last winter, five went on a quest to save yourself and Artemis. Only three came back. Think on that.

Three is a sacred number. There are three fates, three furies, three Olympian sons of Kronos. It is a good strong number that stands against many dangers. Four…this is risky."

I took a deep breath. "I know. But we have to. Please."

I could tell that Chiron didn't like it, and I hated to upset him, though I knew that it had to be this way. Quintus was studying us, like he was trying to decide which of us would come back alive.

Chiron sighed. "Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, we send you into the Labyrinth."

Quintus pulled me aside as the council was breaking up.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he told me.

Mrs. O'Leary came over, wagging her tail happily. She dropped her shield at my feet, and I threw it for her. Quintus watched her romp after it. I still didn't trust him, but when he looked at me, I saw what looked like genuine concern in his eyes.

"I don't like the idea of you going down there," he told me. "Any of you. but if you must, I want you to remember something. The Labyrinth exists to fool you. It will distract you. That's dangerous for half-bloods. We are easily distracted."

"You've been in there?"

"Long ago." His voice was ragged. "I barely escaped with my life. Most who enter aren't that lucky."

He gripped my shoulder. "Ana, keep your mind on what matters most. If you can do that, you might find the way. And here, I wanted to give you something."

He handed me a little silver tube. It was so cold I almost dropped it.

"A whistle?" I asked.

"A dog whistle," Quintus elaborated. "For Mrs. O'Leary."

"Um, thanks, but—"

"How will it work in the maze? I'm not a hundred percent certain it will. But Mrs. O'Leary is a hellhound. She can appear when called, no matter how far away she is. I'd feel better knowing you had this. If you really need help, use it; but be careful, the whistle is made of Stygian ice."

"What ice?"

"From the River Styx. Very hard to craft. Very delicate. It cannot melt, but it will shatter when you blow it, so you can only use it once."

I thought about Annabeth, my old enemy. Right before I'd gone on my first quest, she had given Luke a gift, too—a Yankee cap that had been designed to drag us to our deaths.

Quintus seemed nice. So concerned. And Mrs. O'Leary liked him, which had to count for something. She dropped the slimy shield at my feet and barked excitedly when I threw it again for her.

I felt ashamed that I could even think about mistrusting Quintus. But then again, Luke had trusted Annabeth and Ethan once.

"Thanks," I told Quintus. I slipped the freezing whistle into my pocket, promising myself that I would never use it, and I dashed off to find Luke.

It was rare for the Hermes cabin to be deserted, but when I stuck my head in, only Luke was there, shuffling some papers with tension lining his shoulders.

"Knock, knock," I called to him, making his head jolt up. He gave me a strained smile.

"Who's there?"

"Trouble," I replied dryly. He gave a bitter snort.

"We're demigods Ariel," he sighed. "We're all trouble. Or else we're in it."

I shrugged in acceptance and my way over to him, picking my way through the sleeping bags that covered the floor like a carpet.

"What happened when I was in the attic?" I asked bluntly once we were both seated on his bunk. He didn't look surprised that I knew something had occurred.

He raked a hand through his hair, looking strained. "Juniper told me that she saw Quintus poking around the entrance to the Labyrinth," he admitted. My shoulders went stiff, and I found myself reaching into my pocket to touch the whistle.

"He just gave me a whistle supposedly made from Stygian ice for Mrs. O'Leary," I answered after a moment. "One-use only, according to him."

Luke pursed his lips. "Trap?"

I shrugged. "Could be. I dunno."

He gave me a guilty look. "I'm sorry I pressed you into being the leader for this," he murmured, reaching over to wrap an arm around my shoulders and tug me into his side. "I know that you're struggling."

I laid my head on his shoulder.

"No, it's okay," I replied tiredly. "I know why. And the Oracle wouldn't have given me a prophecy if it wasn't my task anyway." Despite my words, tears began slipping out of my eyes, and I turned my head into his shirt to cry softly. Luke didn't speak, simply rubbing my back in comfort.

"Oh, uh." I jolted up and away from Luke, humiliated at the sight of Travis at the door. He was one of my friends too, but I only ever let Luke, Grover and Chiron see me in tears, on the rare occasions that I let them fall.

Travis looked away apologetically as he spoke, letting me regain my dignity.

"It's time for archery with the Athena cabin, Luke," he said. "I came to get you."

Message given, he hurried off again, much to my relief. Once he was gone, Luke glanced at me, asking me with his eyes if I needed him to skip it, but I just forced a weary smile back at him.

"See you later," I murmured. "I'm gonna go and get packed. I want to touch in with Chiron too."

"If you're sure," he agreed reluctantly.

"I am," I stated firmly, turning to leave. He called after me just before I stepped out the door.

"Ana wait!"

"Yeah?" I turned back around to raise an eyebrow at him.

"About your prophecy. The line about a hero's last breath—"

I went tense. "You're wondering which hero? I don't know. The Oracle didn't give me any hints about that."

"No. Something else. I was thinking the last line usually rhymes with the one before it. Was it something about—did it end in the word death?"

I looked away, my jaw tense. "I'll see you later Luke."


	5. Nico the Necromancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana gets another IM and a vision. She enjoys neither of them.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Five**

**Nico the Necromancer**

At least the Fates were merciful enough to let me get a good night's sleep before the quest, right?

Wrong. Those bitches have it out for me.

That night in my dreams, I was in the stateroom of the  _Princess Andromeda_. I shuddered from bad memories as I surveyed the room. The windows were open on a moonlit sea. Cold wind rustled the velvet drapes.

Chase and Nakamura both knelt on a Persian rug in front of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. In the moonlight, Annabeth's blond hair looked pure white. They both wore an ancient Greek chiton and a white himation, the capes flowing down their shoulders. The clothes made the pair of them look timeless and a little surreal, like the minor gods on Mount Olympus. Angels instead of the heartless psychopaths I knew them to be.

I scanned my two enemies through narrow eyes, more than a little unhappy with my inability to hurt them.

Annabeth hadn't changed, though maybe she was a bit thinner. But Nakamura that disturbed me. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been broken and unconscious after a nasty fall from Mount Tam. Now he looked perfectly fine. Almost too healthy. No scarring from the fall that I could spot.

I was no child of Apollo, but I'd done the same first-aid courses every camper was required to do. They were the equivalent to an army field medic's training. There should've been  _something._ But there wasn't, and even mentally I hated to admit how frightened the implications of that made me.

"Our spies report success, my lord," Chase informed her master. "Camp Half-Blood is sending a quest, as you predicted. Our side of the bargain is almost complete."

_Excellent._  The voice of Kronos didn't so much speak as pierce my mind like a dagger. It was freezing with cruelty.  _Once we have the means to navigate, I will lead the vanguard through myself._

My already dark frown deepened at the words and the expression Chase wore. Nakamura simply closed his eyes as if collecting his thoughts. "My lord, perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps Krios or Hyperion should lead—"

What did that mean? How much had Kronos reformed? Were more Titans at large in the world? If so, why were they holding back? That, at least, I could answer. They were waiting for their leader to escape completely.

_No._ The voice was quiet but absolutely firm. _I will lead. One more heart shall join our cause, and that will be sufficient. At last I shall rise fully from Tartarus._

"But the form, my lord…" Chase's voice started shaking.

_Show your sword, Ethan Nakamura_.

Ethan drew his sword. Backbiter's double edge glowed wickedly—half steel, half celestial bronze. I'd almost been killed several times by that sword. It was an evil weapon, tempered in blood and able to kill both mortals and monsters alike. It was the only blade I really feared.

_You pledged yourselves to me,_ Kronos reminded them.  _This sword was given as proof of your oath_.

"Yes, my lord. It's just—"

_You wanted power. I gave you that. You are now beyond harm. Soon you will rule the world of gods and mortals. Do you not wish to avenge yourself? To see Olympus destroyed?_

Avenge what? A shitty childhood? You didn't have to be a half-blood to have crap parents. And not all of us ended up becoming psychos. Truthfully, when you compared Annabeth Chase's neglectful mortal family and Ethan Nakamura's dead-from-cancer-not-monsters father, to the Stolls' overly Christian mother who'd tried to beat the devil out of them, they had it pretty decent.

A shiver ran through Chase's body while Nakamura's expression briefly flickered from its' usual neutral. "Yes."

The coffin glowed, golden light filling the room.  _Then make ready the strike force. As soon as the bargain is done, we shall move forward. First, Camp Half-Blood will be reduced to ashes. Once those bothersome heroes are eliminated, we will march on Olympus._

There was a knock on the stateroom doors. The light of the coffin faded. The two rose, Ethan sheathing his sword, as Annabeth adjusted her white clothes, and took a deep breath.

"Come in."

The doors opened. Two dracaenae slithered in. Between them walked Kelli, the empousa cheerleader from my freshman orientation. I rolled my eyes bitterly.

"Hello, Ethan," Kelli smiled flirtatiously. It disappeared into a sneer as she turned to greet Chase as well. She was wearing a red dress and she looked awesome, but I'd seen her real form. I knew what she was hiding: mismatched legs, red eyes, fangs, and flaming hair. Bitch.

"What is it, demon?" Ethan's voice was as cold as it always was.

"We gave orders not to be disturbed," Annabeth added harshly. There were no signs left of their earlier distress. Then again, hiding emotions was lesson 2 in Camp Half-Blood. The first lesson, of course, was Your Heritage Has Sentenced You to an Early Death 101.

Kelli pouted, giving it a seductive edge when she focused on Ethan. "That's not very nice. You look tense. How about a nice shoulder massage?"

He stepped back. "If you have something to report, say it. Otherwise leave!"

"I don't know why you're so huffy these days, Ethan. You used to be fun to hang around, despite Annabitch." Gotta give it to her, that was a good one.

"That was before I saw what you did to that boy in Seattle."

"Oh, he meant nothing to me," Kelli dismissed. "Just a snack, really. You know my heart belongs to you, Ethan."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Now report or get out."

Kelli shrugged. "Fine. The advanced team is ready, as you ordered. We can leave—" She frowned.

"What is it?" Chase demanded sharply.

"A presence," Kelli replied. "Your senses are getting dull. We're being watched." She scanned the stateroom. Her eyes focused right on me. Her face withered into a hag's. She bared her fangs and lunged.

I woke with a start, my heart pounding. I could've sworn the empousa's fangs were an inch from my throat.

Shaking, I grabbed the weapon nearest me, a dagger I had sharpened last night before bed, and sat up to scan the room.

Tyson was snoring in the next bunk. The sound calmed me down a little. I was in Camp. Safe. For the moment.

I didn't know how Kelli could sense me in a dream, but I'd heard more than I wanted to know. An army was ready. Kronos would lead it personally, meaning he was one recruit away from escaping Tartarus completely. All they needed was a way to navigate the Labyrinth so they could invade and destroy Camp Half-Blood, and they apparently thought that was going to happen very soon.

I was tempted to go wake up Luke and tell him, middle of the night or not. The only thing that made me hesitate was the chance that one of his roommates would hear me and spread the word, which would be very bad for our already low morale.

I was still debating whether or not to go when I realized (shamefully late) the room was lighter than it should have been. A blue-and-green glow was coming from the saltwater fountain, brighter and more urgent than the night before. It was almost like the water was humming.

I got out of bed, summoned my sword to feel its' familiar, comforting weight and approached the fountain.

No voice spoke out of the water this time, asking for a deposit. I got the feeling the fountain was waiting for me to make the first move.

I probably should've gone back to bed. Instead I thought about what I'd seen last night—the weird image of Nico at the banks of the River Styx.

"You're trying to tell me something," I stated the obvious.

There was no response from the fountain.

"All right," I said. "Show me Nico di'Angelo."

I didn't even throw a coin in, but this time it didn't matter. It was like some other force had control of the water besides Iris the messenger goddess which was a stressful thought, and one I put to the side temporarily. The water shimmered. Nico appeared, but he was no longer in the Underworld. He was standing in a graveyard under a starry sky. Giant willow trees loomed all around him.

He was watching some gravediggers at work. I heard shovels and saw dirt flying out of a hole. Nico was dressed in a black cloak. The night was foggy. It was warm and humid, and frogs were croaking. A large Wal-Mart bag sat next to Nico's feet.

"Is it deep enough yet?" Nico asked. He sounded irritated.

"Nearly, my lord." It was the same ghost I'd seen Nico with before, the faint shimmering image of a man. "But, my lord, I tell you, this is unnecessary. You already have me for advice."

"I want a second opinion!" Nico snapped his fingers, and the digging stopped. Two figures climbed out of the hole. They weren't people. They were skeletons in ragged clothes.

"You are dismissed," Nico told them. "Thank you." At least he was polite, and seemed to not be completely taken in by his spectral 'ally'.

The skeletons collapsed into piles of bones.

"You might as well thank the shovels," the ghost complained, his pride evidently hurt. "They have as much sense."

Nico ignored him. He reached into his Wal-Mart bag and pulled out a twelve-pack of Coke. He popped open a can. Instead of drinking it, he poured it into the grave. An uneasy feeling squirmed in my belly, and I gripped Anaklusmos' hilt harder.

"Let the dead taste again," he murmured. "Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember."

His powers, and his knowledge and control of them, had clearly advanced quickly. Dangerously quickly. For all that the claim of Big Three children being too destructive had been an excuse to camouflage the Great Prophecy, there was a reason that it had been so easily believed. We  _were_  dangerous, and our powers controlled through pure force of will. If our will faltered...

Well, our fathers hadn't  _actually_  been responsible for all the natural disasters there had been. For example, the 1906 earthquake had been the result of one of my half-siblings losing his wife.

He dropped the rest of the Cokes into the grave and pulled out a white paper bag decorated with cartoons. I hadn't seen one, let alone eaten one since before my mom's death, but I recognized it—a McDonald's Happy Meal.

He turned it upside down and shook the fries and hamburger into the grave.

"In my day, we used animal blood," the ghost mumbled. "It's perfectly good enough. They can't taste the difference."

"I will treat them with respect," Nico insisted. I wasn't exactly sure that giving zombies processed shit like McDonald's was being  _respectful_ , but to each their own, I guess.

"At least let me keep the toy," the ghost whined. I was getting seriously fed up with him, and I had to admire Nico's patience to put up with it what seemed like 24/7.

"Be quiet!" Nico ordered. He emptied another twelve-pack of soda and three more Happy Meals into the grave, then began chanting in Ancient Greek. I caught only some of the words—a lot about the dead and memories and returning from the grave. Real happy, rainbows and sunshine stuff.

The grave started to bubble. Frothy brown liquid rose to the top like the whole thing was filling with soda. The fog thickened. The frogs stopped croaking. Dozens of figures began to appear among the gravestones: bluish, vaguely human shapes. Nico had summoned the dead with Coke and cheeseburgers.

"There are too many," the ghost said nervously. "You don't know your own powers."

"I've got it under control," Nico said, though his voice sounded fragile. He drew his sword—a short blade made of solid black metal. I'd never seen anything like it. It wasn't celestial bronze or steel. Iron, maybe? It had to be magical, otherwise it'd be useless.

Still, my main worry was Nico's control. Using powers that you couldn't control properly tended be a lot more dangerous than just getting short of breath. Building damages and injuries had followed in my wake long before I'd learned the truth of my heritage.

For the moment, though, it seemed like Nico was right about having it under control. The crowd of shades retreated at the sight of the sword at least.

"One at a time," Nico commanded.

A single figure floated forward and knelt at the pool. It made slurping sounds as it drank. I shuddered as I watched its' ghostly hands scoop French fries out of the pool. This was so wrong. Let the dead rest in peace. Life's shite enough without taking away their rightfully earned rest in the Underworld.

When it stood again, I could see it much more clearly—a teenage guy in Greek armour. He had dark, curly hair and green eyes, a clasp shaped like a seashell on his cloak. I shifted, feeling uncomfortable.

"Who are you?" Nico said. "Speak."

The young man frowned as if trying to remember. Then he spoke in a voice like dry, crumpling paper: "I am Theseus."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Of course, the young age made sense when I thought about it. Ancient Greek people had a short lifespan in the best of times, make them half-bloods with monsters that had apparently been even stronger than they were now due to the knowledge of them? Never mind twenty,  _fourteen_  was probably an impressive age for them. But it was still shocking to see one of my most famous half-siblings.

"How can I retrieve my sister?" Nico asked.

Theseus' eyes were lifeless as glass. "Do not try. It is madness."

"Just tell me!"

"My stepfather died," Theseus remembered. "He threw himself into the sea because he thought I was dead in the Labyrinth. I wanted to bring him back, but I could not."

Nico's ghost hissed. "My lord, the soul exchange! Ask him about that!"

Theseus scowled. "That voice. I know that voice." Knowing Theseus' history, that didn't improve my grim mood.

"No you don't, fool!" the ghost snapped. "Answer the lord's questions and nothing more!"

"I know you," Theseus insisted, as if struggling to recall.

"I want to hear about my sister," Nico said. "Will this quest into the Labyrinth help me win her back?"

Theseus was looking for the ghost, but apparently couldn't see him. Slowly he turned his eyes back on Nico. "The Labyrinth is treacherous. There is only one thing that saw me through: the love of a mortal girl. The string was only part of the answer. It was the princess who guided me."

"We don't need any of that," the ghost said. "I will guide you, my lord. Ask him if it is true about an exchange of souls. He will tell you."

"A soul for a soul," Nico asked. "Is it true?"

"I—I must say yes. But the spectre—"

"Just answer the questions, knave!" the ghost said.

Suddenly, around the edges of the pool, the other ghosts became restless. I recognized the look from old dreams. Kronos had sensed Nico's power. Did the young boy, still very new to the world of real-life myths, understand his danger? Did he know about the Prophecy?

They stirred, whispering in nervous tones.

"I want to see my sister!" Nico demanded. "Where is she?"

"He is coming," Theseus said fearfully. "He has sensed your summons. He comes."

"Who?" Nico demanded.

"He comes to find the source of this power," Theseus said. "You must release us."

The water in my fountain began to tremble, humming with power. I realized the whole cabin was shaking. The noise grew louder. The image of Nico in the graveyard started to glow until it was painful to watch.

"Stop," I cried out loud, no longer caring if Nico and his ghostly advisor/manipulator heard me. "Stop it!"

The fountain began to crack. Tyson muttered in his sleep and turned over. Purple light threw horrible, ghostly shadows on the cabin walls, as if the spectres were escaping right out of the fountain.

In desperation I raised my sword and slashed at the fountain, cleaving it in two. Salt water spilled everywhere, and the great stone font crashed to the floor in pieces. Tyson snorted and muttered, but he kept sleeping.

I sank to the ground, shivering and holding back tears from what I'd seen. Tyson found me there in the morning, still staring at the shattered remains of the saltwater fountain.

Just after dawn, the quest group met at Zeus' Fist. Experience had guided when I'd packed my knapsack last night—I had packed a first-aid kit that wouldn't have looked out of place in an intensive care unit, along with a thermos with nectar, baggie of ambrosia, bedroll, rope, non-perishable food, a spare change of clothes, two flashlights, some extra batteries and an extra knife. It made a heavy load, but I'd carried heavier. My only worry was that it'd hamper me in a fight. I hated abandoning supplies. I had Anaklusmos in my hair and my daggers strapped to my hips and ankles, including a single steel one, though I only ever aimed to wound mortals, never kill them. The magic bracelet/wristwatch that Tyson had made for me was on my wrist.

It was a clear morning. The fog had burned off and the sky was blue. Campers would be having their lessons today, flying pegasi and practicing archery and scaling the lava wall. Meanwhile, we would be heading underground.

Juniper and Grover stood apart from the group. Juniper had obviously been crying again, but she was trying to keep it together for Grover's sake. She kept fussing with his clothes, straightening his Rasta cap and brushing goat fur off his shirt. Since we had no idea what we would encounter, he was dressed as a human, with the cap to hide his horns, and jeans, fake feet, and sneakers to hide his goat legs.

Chiron, Quintus, and Mrs. O'Leary stood with the other campers who'd come to wish us well, but there was too much activity for it to feel like a happy send-off. Not that I'd ever heard of anyone having a happy send-off to a quest. They tended to be death sentences.

Glancing around, I scanned the tents that had been set up by the rocks for guard duty. Beckendorf and his siblings were working on a line of defensive spikes and trenches. Chiron had decided we needed to guard the Labyrinth exit at all times, just in case. A sentry from Hermes would remain ready to rush back to Camp and sound the alarm at all times.

Luke was doing one last check on his supply pack. When Tyson and I came over, he frowned, eyeing me with a worried look. "Ana, you look terrible."

"Pot meet kettle," I grumbled back. He was as stressed looking as me, with deep purple-black shadows under his eyes, turning them from sapphire to navy blue.

"She killed the water fountain last night," Tyson confided.

"What the fuck?" Luke blinked.

Before I could explain, Chiron trotted over. "Well, it appears you are ready!"

He tried to sound upbeat, but I could tell he was anxious. I didn't want to put more stress on his shoulders, but I thought about last night's dream, and knew that I had no real choice in the matter. Like usual. Before I could change my mind, I stepped nearer to him, saying, "Hey, uhm, Chiron, can I ask you a favour while I'm gone?"

"Of course, my girl."

"Be right back, guys." I nodded toward the far side of the clearing, away from curious ears. Chiron raised an eyebrow, but he followed me out of earshot.

"Last night," I told him in a low tone, tugging my braid into a crown around my head as I spoke. "I dreamed about Luke and Kronos." I told him the details, keeping quiet about the IMs with Nico and his ghost.

The news seemed to weigh on his shoulders, but I could hardly blame him for it. It was weighing on me too.

"I feared this," Chiron sighed. "Against my father, Kronos, we would stand no chance in a fight."

Chiron rarely called Kronos his father. I mean, we all knew it was true. Everybody in the Greek world—god, monster, or Titan—was related to one another somehow. In fact, Kronos was mine and Thalia's (and Nico and everyone in Cabin 4)'s grandfather, though we never acknowledged it. But it wasn't exactly something Chiron liked to brag about. Oh, my dad is the all-powerful evil Titan lord who wants to destroy Western Civilization. I want to be just like him when I grow up! Yeah right.

"Do you know what he meant about a bargain?" I asked, chewing on my lip.

"I am not sure, but I fear they seek to make a deal with Daedalus. If the old inventor is truly alive, if he has not been driven insane by millennia in the Labyrinth…well, Kronos can find ways to twist anyone to his will."

"Not anyone," I promised. If it ever came to it, I'd willingly die before siding with Kronos. I couldn't understand how anyone could.

Chiron managed a smile. "No. Perhaps not anyone. But, Ana, you must beware. I have worried for some time that Kronos may be looking for Daedalus for a different reason, not just passage through the maze."

"What else would he want?"

"Something that Luke and I were discussing. Do you remember what you told me about your first trip to the Princess Andromeda, the first time that you saw the golden coffin?"

I nodded, grimacing at the memory. "They were talking about raising Kronos, little pieces of him appearing in the coffin every time someone new joined his cause."

I clenched my fists with a surge of bitterness. Traitors, that's what they were. I hated them all. Hate and anger were better than fear and hurt, so I clung to it desperately, using it to fuel my adrenaline-high lifestyle.

"And what did Ethan say they would do when Kronos had risen completely?"

A chill went down my spine, and I swallowed back bile. "He said they would make Kronos a new body, worthy of the forges of Hephaestus."

"Indeed," Chiron said. "Daedalus was the world's greatest inventor. He created the Labyrinth, but much more. Automatons, thinking machines…What if Kronos wishes Daedalus to make him a new form?"

That was a real pleasant thought. Like nuclear war pleasant.

"We've got to get to Daedalus first," I insisted, "and convince him not to."

Chiron stared off into the trees. "One other thing I do not understand…this talk of a last soul joining their cause. That does not bode well."

I kept my mouth shut, but I felt guilty. Due to Luke's pleading and the spies we knew were in camp I'd made the decision not to tell Chiron about Nico being a son of Hades. The mention of souls, though— What if Kronos knew about Nico? What if he managed to use his desperation to revive Bianca to convince him to join them? It was almost enough to make me want to tell Chiron, but I didn't. for one thing, I wasn't sure Chiron could do anything about it. I had to find Nico myself. I owed it to him. Bianca had died on a quest to save Artemis  _and_  me.

"I don't know," I said at last. "But, uh, something Juniper told Luke, you should hear." I told him how the tree nymph had seen Quintus poking around the rocks.

Chiron's jaw tightened. "That does not surprise me."

"It doesn't sur—you mean you know?"

"Ana, when Quintus showed up at camp offering his services…well, I would have to be a fool not to be suspicious."

"Then why did you let him in?"

"Because sometimes it is better to have someone you mistrust close to you, so that you can keep an eye on him."

"Keep your friends close and enemies closer," I mumbled as he continued.

"Exactly. He may be just what he says: a half-blood in search of a home. Certainly he has done nothing openly that would make me question his loyalty. But believe me. I will keep an eye—"

Luke trudged over, probably curious why we were taking so long.

"Ariel, you ready?"

I nodded. My hand slipped into my pocket, where I had put the ice whistle Quintus had given me. I looked over and saw Quintus watching me carefully. He raised his hand in farewell.

Our spies report success, Annabeth had said. The same day we decided to send a quest, she and Ethan had known about it. The sick feeling returned.

"Take care," Chiron told us. "And good hunting."

"You too," I murmured.

We walked over to the rocks, where Tyson and Grover were waiting. I stared at the crack between the boulders—the entrance that was about to swallow us. I inhaled deeply, gathering my strength and shoving my claustrophobia and memories into a mental box and putting it at the back of my head.

"Well," Grover said nervously, "good-bye sunshine."

"Hello rocks," Tyson agreed. And together, the four of us descended into the darkness.


	6. Fountain of Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The questers meet Janus and Hera.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Thanks for the reviews, follows, favs and kudos. They make my day. I'm glad that everyone likes how Ana isn't just automatically fine after being held captive. It won't be graphic, but I can't believe that she wasn't tortured. They were psychos who wanted her to turn on Olympus, after all, and unlike in canon, she didn't have Luke to shield her like Annabeth did.**

**Chapter Six**

**The Fountain of Nothing**

We made it about a hundred feet before we finally acknowledged that we were hopelessly lost.

The tunnel we were in looked nothing like the one that Luke and I had stumbled into before. Now it was round like a sewer, constructed of red brick with iron-barred portholes ever ten feet.

I shined a light through one of the portholes out of morbid curiosity, but I couldn't see anything. It opened into infinite darkness. I thought I heard voices on the other side, but it may have been just the cold wind. I hoped so anyway. The other options didn't exactly give me warm and fuzzy feelings.

Even Luke, who usually had as an impeccable internal compass on land as I did at sea, was bewildered. He suggested that we all keep a hand on the left wall, so that we could find our way back by reversing.

Unfortunately, as soon as he finished speaking, the left wall disappeared. We found ourselves in the middle of a circular chamber with eight tunnels leading out, and no idea how we'd gotten there.

"Um, which way did we come in?" Grover said nervously.

"Just turn around," I ordered, hearing the tightness in my tone.

Of course, we each turned toward a different tunnel. It was ridiculous. None of us could decide which way led back to camp.

"Left walls are mean," Tyson complained. "Which way now?" The boys looked at me, waiting for directions. Because I was in charge, the Saviour-to-be. All because of my 'Big Three' biology and that damn prophecy.

I crossed my arms and exhaled slowly, trying not to snap. My head pounded like I had a concussion, and it felt as if the room was closing in on me. Maybe it was. My left wrist, the one that Atlas had crushed so badly that Lee and Kayla had needed to perform surgery on it to replace the bones inside with ones crafted from Celestial Bronze by Beckendorf, throbbed with phantom pain.

I swept my gaze over the eight tunnels, debating silently, before eventually nodding at the one closest. "That one."

"Why?" Luke wondered. I shot him an irritated look.

"Why not?" I retorted. There was no way to navigate the damn maze, it would counter every solution we came up with. Choosing randomly seemed about as successful a way as any other.

The tunnel I chose narrowed quickly. The walls turned to grey cement, and the ceiling got so low that pretty soon we were hunching over, with Luke's head brushing against the ceiling anyway. Poor Tyson was forced to crawl behind us, his entire body touching the ceiling and sides of the walls.

Grover's hyperventilating was the loudest noise in the maze. It was so loud, I found myself continuously scanning the shadows, convinced that it was covering up the sounds of incoming enemies intent on our deaths.

"I can't stand it anymore," he whispered. "Are we there yet?"

"We've been down here maybe five minutes," I told him dully. I wished he wouldn't panic, it only made things harder. I was on the verge of a meltdown already, I couldn't deal with him either. Maybe that made me a horrible friend, but I had never claimed to be perfect. Or even good, really.

"It's been longer than that," Grover insisted. "And why would Pan be down here? This is the opposite of the wild!"

"Exactly," I grumbled. After all, if I was going to hide, I'd hide as far from the sea as possible, because I hated to be away from it, despite my paternal problems. I only felt safe by the sea. No one would ever think to look in a  _desert_ for  _me_. Which is exactly why I'd hide there.

We kept shuffling forward. Just when I was sure the tunnel would get so narrow it would squish us, it opened into a huge room. I shined my light around the walls and let out a low whistle under my breath.

"Whoa," Luke agreed, also examining the room.

The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were grimy and faded, but I could still make out the colours—red, blue, green, gold. The frieze showed the Olympian gods at a feast. There was my father, Poseidon, with his trident, holding out grapes for Dionysus to turn into wine. Zeus was partying with satyrs, and Hermes was flying through the air on his winged sandals. The pictures were beautiful, but they weren't very accurate. I'd seen the gods. Dionysus was not that handsome, and Hermes' nose wasn't that big.

In the middle of the room was a three-tiered fountain. It looked like it hadn't held water in a long time. When I reached to it with my powers, I couldn't sense single remaining drop. "What is this place?" I muttered. "It looks—"

"Roman I think," Luke finished. "Those mosaics are about two thousand years old by the looks of it. Give or take. It's not my area of expertise."

I didn't ask how he knew. I already knew from his tone that it must've had something to do with Annabeth.

"But how can they be Roman?"

I wasn't that great on ancient history, but I was pretty sure the Roman Empire never made it as far as Long Island. It hadn't been as big as people thought, actually. Alexander the Great's empire had been bigger.

Strangely, the fact that Greece had created a bigger, if shorter-lasting, empire than the Romans made me feel smug, like a buried instinct demanded I beat a bunch of dead people.

I mentally shrugged and filed the thought away in the box of things labelled 'weird demigod shit' in the back of my mind. It was beginning to overflow.

"The Labyrinth is a patchwork," Luke explained. "I told you, it's always expanding, adding pieces. It's the only work of architecture that grows by itself." He sounded about as pleased about that fact as I felt.

I took another deep breath before replying, wishing the air wasn't so musty. "You make it sound like it's alive."

A groaning noise echoed from the tunnel in front of us.

"Let's not talk about it being alive," Grover whimpered. "Please?"

"All right," I agreed. "Let's keep going."

"Down the hall with the bad sounds?" Tyson said. Even he looked nervous.

"Yeah," I answered. I was no child of Athena, but I'd still thought this through. "The architecture is getting older. That's a good sign. Daedalus' workshop would be in the oldest part. I'm sure that we're almost there."

That was a lie, but it made Grover and Tyson brighten, though Luke simply gave me a rueful look, reading my mind as easily as I read his.

Soon it became clear that the maze was toying with us—we went fifty feet and the tunnel turned back to cement, with brass pipes running down the sides. The walls were spray-painted with graffiti. A neon tagger sign read MOZ RULZ.

"I'm thinking this isn't Roman," Luke pointed out dryly.

I took a deep breath, suppressed the urge to punch him, then forged ahead again. Just keep moving, I urged myself. Don't stop. Don't think. Just move and breathe.

Every few feet the tunnels twisted and turned and branched off. The floor beneath us changed from cement to mud to bricks and back again. There was no sense to any of it. We stumbled into a wine cellar—a bunch of dusty bottles in wooden racks—like we were walking through somebody's basement, only there was no exit above us, just more tunnels leading on.

Later the ceiling turned to wooden planks, and I could hear voices above us and the creaking of footsteps, as if we were walking under some kind of bar. It would've been reassuring to hear people, except that we couldn't get to them. We were stuck down here with no way out. Then we found our first skeleton.

He was dressed in white clothes, like some kind of uniform. A wooden crate of glass bottles sat next to him.

"A milkman," Luke announced.

"What?" I asked.

"They used to deliver milk."

"Yeah, I know what they are, but…that was like a million years ago. What's he doing here?"

"I heard that some people wander in by mistake," Luke told us darkly. "Some come exploring on purpose and never make it back. A long time ago, the Cretans sent people in here as human sacrifices."

That made something niggle in the back of my mind, but before I could figure out what it was, Grover gulped. "He's been down here a long time." He pointed to the skeleton's bottles, which were coated with white dust. The skeleton's fingers were clawing at the brick wall, like he had died trying to get out.

"Only bones," Tyson said. "Don't worry, goat boy. The milkman is dead."

"The milkman doesn't bother me," Grover answered. "It's the smell. Monsters. Can't you smell it?"

Tyson nodded. "Lots of monsters. But underground smells like that. Monsters and dead milk people."

"Oh, good," Grover whimpered. "I thought maybe I was wrong."

"Enough dawdling," I interrupted sharply, more disturbed by the whole conversation than I wanted to admit. "We have to get deeper into the maze. There has to be a way to the centre."

I went by instinct, first going to the right, then the left, then through a corridor of stainless steel like some kind of air shaft, before we finally arrived back in the Roman tile room with the fountain. I bit back a scream of frustration.

And of course, this time, we weren't alone.

What I noticed first were his faces. Both of them. They jutted out from either side of his head, staring over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than it should've been, kind of like a hammerhead shark's looking straight at him, all I saw were two overlapping ears and mirror-image sideburns.

He was dressed like a New York City doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black top-hat that somehow managed to stay on his double-wide head.

"Well, Anaea?" said his left face to me. "Hurry up!"

"Don't mind him," the right face told me. "He's terribly rude. Right this way, miss."

I reached for my hairpin, shifting into a defensive position, Luke also resting his hand on the pommel of his sword and beginning to slowly, subtly draw it.

Tyson frowned. "That funny man has two faces."

"The funny man has ears, you know!" the left face scolded. "Now come along, miss. No need for the weapons, just make your decision."

"No, no," the right face said. "This way, miss. Talk to me, please."

The two-faced man regarded me as best he could out of the corners of his eyes. It was impossible to look at him straight on without focusing on one side or the other. And suddenly I realized that's what he was asking—he wanted me to choose. My heart leapt into my throat, and my hand fell to hang limply at my side. My choice. My choice that decided the fates of gods-knew-how-many people. I felt sick.

Behind him were two exits, blocked by wooden doors with huge iron locks. They hadn't been there our first time through the room. The two-faced doorman held a silver key, which he kept passing from his left hand to his right hand. Part of me wondered if this was a different room completely, but the frieze of the gods looked exactly the same.

Behind us, the doorway we'd come through had disappeared, replaced by more mosaics. We wouldn't be going back the way we came.

"The exits are closed," I whispered. Closed. We were trapped. My throat was closed, and I realized that I had lost the ability to breathe.

"Duh!" the man's left face scoffed.

"Where do they lead?" I asked, feigning calmness. The edges of my vision were going dark from lack of air. The lack of water in the room was making me dizzy.

"One probably leads the way you wish to go," the right face said encouragingly. "The other leads to certain death."

"Who are you?" I demanded, going on the attack. Offense is the best defence, after all. "What do you want from me?"

"We want you to choose," the left face snapped impatiently. "Hurry up won't you? I don't have all day."

"Why are you trying to confuse me?" I asked bitterly, pressing at the bronze knife resting against my right hip.

The right face smiled. "You're in charge now, my dear. All the decisions are on your shoulders. The question is, what will you choose?"

My throat was dry, and I felt my heart beating so fast, I was positive that it could heard in the depths of Tartarus. "I—"

"We know you, Anaea," the left face said. "We know what you wrestle with every day. We know your indecision. You will have to make your choice sooner or later. And the choice may kill you."

I swallowed heavily. This was about more than a choice between doors. This was about the fate of the world.

I could feel the colour draining out of my face and I shook my head desperately. It was too soon. I wasn't ready. "No…I don't—"

"Leave her alone," Luke snarled, stalking forward with his sword unsheathed and held in a preparatory position. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm your best friend," the right face said.

"I'm your worst enemy," the left face said.

"I'm Janus," both faces said in harmony. "God of Doorways. Beginnings. Endings. Choices."

"I'll see you soon enough, Lukas Castellan," said the right face. "But for now it's Anaea's turn." He laughed giddily. "Such fun!"

"Shut up!" his left face snapped at him. "This is serious. One bad choice can ruin your whole life. It can kill you and all of your friends. But no pressure, Anaea. Choose!"

"Don't do it," Luke insisted, giving me a panicked look. I stared back at him with wide eyes, trying to stop myself from trembling.

"I'm afraid she has to," the right face said cheerfully.

I knew that he was right. Suppressing my panic as best I could, I moistened my lips. "I—I chose—"

Before I could point to a door, a brilliant light flooded the room.

Janus raised his hands to either side of his head to cover his eyes. When the light died, a woman was standing at the fountain.

She was tall and graceful with long hair the colour of chocolate, braided in plaits with gold ribbons. She wore a simple white dress, but when she moved, the fabric shimmered with colours like oil on water.

"Janus," she raised an eyebrow with an elegance that would've made me jealous, if I were the type to give a damn about being 'ladylike'. "Are we causing trouble again?"

"N-no, milady!" Janus' right face stammered.

"Yes!" the left face exclaimed at the same time.

"Shut up!" the right face hissed.

"Excuse me?" the woman, who was definitely a goddess, probably a major one at that, asked.

"Not you, milady! I was talking to myself."

"I see," the lady said. "You know very well your visit is premature. The girl's time has not yet come. So I give you a choice: leave these heroes to me, or I shall turn you into a door and break you down."

"What kind of door?" the left face asked.

"Shut up!" the right face snarled at him.

"Because French doors are nice," the left face mused. "Lots of natural light."

"Shut up!" the right face wailed. "Not you, milady! Of course I'll leave. I was just having a bit of fun. Doing my job. Offering choices."

"Causing indecision," the woman corrected. "Now be gone!"

The left face muttered, "Party pooper," then he raised his silver key, inserted it into the air, and disappeared.

The woman turned toward us, and fear closed around my heart. Her eyes shined with power.  _Leave these heroes to me_. That didn't sound good. For a second, I almost wished we could've taken our chances with Janus. But then the goddess smiled. It was so kind looking, I was instantly suspicious.

"You must be hungry," she smiled gently. "Sit with me and talk."

She waved her hand, and the old Roman fountain began to flow, the mere presence of the water loaning me the strength that I had desperately needed. Jets of clear water sprayed into the air. A marble table appeared, laden with platters of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade.

"Who…who are you?" I asked warily.

"I am Hera." The woman smiled. "Queen of Heaven."

I'd seen Hera once before at a Council of the Gods, but I hadn't paid much attention to her. At the time I'd been surrounded by a bunch of other gods who were debating whether or not to kill me, and was only half-conscious after being saved. I'm screwed up, but I know better than to take my eyes off my opponents. Especially when injured.

I didn't remember her looking so normal. Of course, gods are usually twenty feet tall when they're on Olympus, so that makes them look a lot less normal. But now, Hera looked like a regular mom, not the Queen of Heaven. I had to give it to her. It was a terrifying disguise.

She served us sandwiches and poured lemonade, and I wondered if they were poisoned, or something. I couldn't remember if she had voted to kill Thalia and I or not. The only detail I recalled about the vote was that we'd survived it.

"Grover, dear," Hera chided, breaking me out of my thoughts. " _Use_  your napkin. Don't eat it."

"Yes, ma'am," Grover said.

"Tyson, you're wasting away. Would you like another peanut butter sandwich?"

Tyson stifled a belch. "Yes, nice lady."

I couldn't stay silent anymore, putting down my uneaten sandwich. "Queen Hera," I said, as respectfully as I could, though I wasn't a respectful person. Especially when it came to gods. I only respected people who earned it. They hadn't. "May I ask what you're doing in the Labyrinth?"

Hera smiled. She flicked one finger and I felt my hair undo itself before it combed itself back into a fresh crown braid. All the dirt and grime disappeared from my face. It made me nervous. Gods never did anything without ulterior motives. What did she want?

"I came to see you, naturally," the goddess said.

Luke and I exchanged nervous looks. Usually when the gods come looking for you, it's not out of the goodness of their hearts. It's because they want something.

Still, that didn't keep the others from scoffing down on turkey-and-Swiss cheese sandwiches and chips and lemonade. Tyson was inhaling one peanut butter sandwich after another, and Grover was loving the lemonade, crunching the Styrofoam cup like an ice-cream cone. Luke had already polished off two sandwiches, but I couldn't bring myself to eat anything.

The delicious look of the food reminded me of last winter, where my captors had force-fed me food that looked and smelled wonderful but was actually on the wrong side of edible, causing me to throw up and become weaker and weaker from lack of sustenance.

The memory made my stomach twist, and I forced it away again. Never mind my boys,  _denial_  was my real best friend.

"I didn't think—" I faltered, wary of pissing the queen off. Immortals were all so touchy. "Well, I didn't think you liked heroes."

Hera smiled indulgently. "Because of that little spat I had with Hercules? Honestly, I got so much bad press because of one disagreement."

"Didn't you try to kill him, like, loads of times?" I pointed out.

Hera waved her hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge, my dear. Besides, he was one of my loving husband's children by  _another_  woman. My patience wore thin, I'll admit it. But Zeus and I have had some excellent marriage counselling sessions since then. We've aired our feelings and come to an understanding—especially after that last little incident."

"You mean when he sired Thalia?" Luke guessed, and I immediately wished that he hadn't. From the looks of it, so did Luke.

As soon as he said the name of our friend, Hera's expression turned frosty, the air with her. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Lukas Castellan, isn't it? One of my stepson Hermes' children. Your choice is coming soon, child. I hope you make the right decision." What choice? Hera's tone had sounded threatening when she spoke of it.

She turned her attention back to me and gave me another sunny smile. "At any rate, I certainly bear you no ill will, my girl. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have troublemakers like Janus to deal with."

"Why was he here?" I questioned carefully, taking extra care with my words. (I wasn't completely incapable of politeness, ya know.) "He was driving me crazy."

"Trying to," Hera agreed. "You must understand, the minor gods like Janus have always been frustrated by the small parts they play in the universe. Some, I fear, have little love for Olympus, and could easily be swayed to support the rise of my father. We must watch the minor gods," she continued. "Janus. Hecate. Morpheus. They give lip service to Olympus, and yet—"

"That's where Dionysus went," I remembered. "He was checking on the minor gods." The knowledge of the minor gods turning on Olympus was familiar to me. Once, Ethan had made me watch through an IM as Eris, goddess of chaos, swore her loyalty on bended knee before the damn sarcophagus. I'd been too dazed and distracted to report it at the solstice, so I'd told Chiron the next day instead.

"Indeed." Hera stared at the fading mosaics of the Olympians. "You see, in times of trouble, even gods can lose faith. They start putting their trust in the wrong things. They stop looking at the big picture and start being selfish.

But I'm the goddess of marriage, you see. I'm used to perseverance. You have to rise above the squabbling and chaos, and keep believing. You have to always keep your goals in mind."

"What are your goals?" Luke asked. He looked as wary as I felt.

She smiled. "To keep my family, the Olympians, together, of course. At the moment, the best way I can do that is by helping you. Zeus does not allow me to interfere much, I am afraid. But once every century or so, for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish."

"A wish?"

"Before you ask it, let me give you some advice, which I can do for free. I know you seek Daedalus. His Labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But if you want to know his fate, I would visit my son Hephaestus at his forge. Daedalus was a great inventor, a mortal after Hephaestus' heart. There has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would have kept up with Daedalus and could tell you his fate, it is Hephaestus."

"But how do we get there?" I asked, deciding quickly, like I usually did. It was made easier by knowing exactly what we needed. "That's my wish. I want a way to navigate the Labyrinth."

Hera looked disappointed. "So be it. You wish for something, however, that you have already been given."

"I don't understand."

"The means is already within your grasp. You already know the answer."

"I do?"

"But that's not fair," I protested, despite knowing full well that life was never fair, and especially not for half-bloods. "You're not telling me what it is!"

Hera shook her head. "Getting something and having the wits to use it…those are two different things. I'm sure that Athena would agree."

The room rumbled like distant thunder. Hera stood. "That would be my cue. Zeus grows impatient. Think on what I have said, Anaea. Seek out Hephaestus. You will have to pass through the ranch, I imagine. But keep going. And use all the means at your disposal, however common they may seem."

She pointed toward the two doors and they melted away, revealing twin corridors, open and dark. "One last thing, Anaea. I have postponed your day of choice, I have not prevented it. Soon, as Janus said, you will have to make a decision. Farewell!"

She waved a hand and turned into white smoke. So did the food, just as Tyson chomped down on a sandwich that turned to mist in his mouth. The fountain trickled to a stop. The mosaic walls dimmed and turned grungy and faded again. The room was no longer any place you'd want to have a picnic.

I screamed in frustration and punched the side of the fountain, ignoring the pain that flashed through me at the action. "What sort of help was that? 'Here, have a sandwich. Make a wish. Oops, I can't help you!' Poof!"

"Poof," Tyson agreed sadly, looking at his empty plate.

"Well," Grover sighed, "she said that you already know the answer. That's something at least."

"If I knew the fucking answer, Grover, we wouldn't have spent the last gods-know-how-long wandering around cluelessly," I snarled at him, pissed off beyond belief. He winced and I punched the fountain again, feeling one of my knuckles crack in the process.

It was times like these that I really understood why people would fall prey to Kronos' bullshit, despite the whole 'demigods needing gods to exist' thing. The Olympians were more selfish than I could put into words.

Luke sighed and handed me a tiny piece of ambrosia, sounding more tired than an eighty-year-old veteran. "All right. Then we'll just keep going."

"Which way?" I asked, running a hand over my hair to check that it was still in place. That was when Grove and Tyson both tensed. They stood up together like they'd rehearsed it.

"Left," they both declared.

I frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because something is coming from the right," Grover explained hastily.

"Something big," Tyson agreed. "In a hurry."

"Left is sounding pretty good," I decided. Together we grabbed our bags and plunged into the dark corridor.


	7. Two Demigods, A Cyclops and A Satyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The questers meet Briaries and Kampe

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved, etc. I'm glad it's so well-liked.**

**Chapter Seven**

**Two Demigods, A Cyclops and a Satyr Run Into a Prison**

The good news: the left tunnel was straight with no side exits, twists, or turns. And it was wide enough that Luke and I could run beside each other, with Grover in the middle and Tyson at the back. The bad news; it was a dead end.

After sprinting a hundred yards (Grover was flagging and struggling to breathe by the time that we stopped), we ran into an enormous boulder that completely blocked our path. Behind us, the sounds of dragging footsteps and heavy breathing echoed down the corridor. Something—definitely not human—was on our tail. Luke unsheathed his sword and went to cover us while I turned to my baby brother.

"Tyson," I said, my words almost falling over each other in my haste to get them out. "Can you—"

"Yes!" He slammed his shoulder against the rock so hard the whole tunnel shook. Dust trickled from the stone ceiling.

"Hurry!" Grover urged him. "Don't bring the roof down, but hurry!"

Another push caused the boulder to finally give way with a horrible grinding noise. Tyson pushed it into a small room and we dashed through behind it.

"Close the entrance!" I snapped at the boys as soon as we were all through.

We all got on the other side of the boulder and pushed. Whatever was chasing us wailed in frustration as we heaved the rock back into placed and sealed the corridor, just in time.

"We trapped it," I sighed, letting my shoulders relax a fraction.

"Or trapped ourselves," Grover replied gloomily.

I turned, and straight away snapped my eyes closed and took a deep breath, trying not to scream in frustration.

We were in a twenty-foot-square cement room and the opposite wall was covered with metal bars. We'd tunnelled straight into a cell.

"What in Hades?" Luke tugged on the bars. They didn't budge. Through the bars we could see rows of cells in a ring around a dark courtyard—at least three stories of metal doors and metal catwalks.

"A prison," I stated, instead of following my first instinct to punch the wall. "Can you do your thing?"

"I hate doing my thing," he complained, but began to examine the lock. His head snapped back up a second later, and we both reached for our weapons at Grover's "Shh! Listen."

Somewhere above us, deep sobbing echoed through the building. There was another sound, too—a raspy voice muttering something that I couldn't make out. The words were strange, like rocks in a tumbler.

"What's that language?" I whispered, the sound making me uneasy.

Tyson's eye widened. "Can't be."

"What?" I repeated.

He grabbed two bars on our cell door and bent them wide enough for even a Cyclops to slip through.

"Wait!" Grover called.

But Tyson wasn't about to wait. We ran after him. The prison was dark, only a few dim fluorescent lights flickering above.

"I recognize this place," Luke told me. "This is Alcatraz."

"You mean that island prison that's near San Francisco?"

He nodded. "Sarah loves it. We watched a documentary on it for her birthday back in March." Sarah was an unclaimed eleven-year-old everyone knew was a daughter of Athena from her genius, blonde curls and stormy-grey eyes. She'd been a resident of Cabin Eleven full-time since her mortal mother's death in a car crash two years ago.

"We're at 37.8270° N, 122.4230° W," Luke added. "According to the documentary, those are its' coordinates."

It didn't seem possible that we could've popped out of the Labyrinth on the other side of the country, but, as I knew very well, Luke was as incapable of getting lost on land as I was at sea. I trusted him, and his judgment. If he said that we'd travelled from New York to San Francisco, then my only concern was getting as far away from Othrys as possible, ASAP.

We sped up and caught up to the boys just in time to hear Grover trying to stop Tyson.

"Freeze," he warned my brother.

But Tyson kept going. Grover grabbed his arm and pulled him back with all his strength. "Stop, Tyson!" he hissed. "Can't you see it?"

I looked where he was pointing, and my stomach did a somersault. Terror choked me, and Luke clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from letting out any sounds. It didn't hide the look of horror and fear on his face, though.

On the second-floor balcony, across the courtyard, was a monster more horrible than anything I'd ever seen before.

It was sort of like a centaur, with a woman's body from the waist up. But instead of a horse's lower body, it had the body of a dragon—at least twenty feet long, black and scaly with enormous claws and a barbed tail. Her legs looked like they were tangled in vines, but then I realized they were sprouting snakes, hundreds of vipers darting around, constantly looking for something to bite. The woman's hair was also made of snakes, like Medusa's. weirdest of all, around her waist, where the woman part met the dragon part, her skin bubbled and morphed, occasionally producing the heads of animals—a vicious wolf, a bear, a lion, as if she were wearing a belt of ever-changing creatures.

I got the feeling I was looking at something half formed, a monster so old it was from the beginning of time, before shapes had been fully defined. I didn't recognize it, and I could only assume that it had come as a result of the Great Stirring. I really hated the whole thing now, as if I hadn't already.

"It's her," Tyson whimpered.

"Get down!" Grover whispered back, his own eyes wide.

We crouched in the shadows, but the monster wasn't paying us any attention. It seemed to be talking to someone inside a cell on the second floor. That's where the sobbing was coming from. The dragon woman said something in her weird rumbling language. Her voice made me feel like ice was crawling up my spine. It was terrifying.

"What's she saying?" I muttered to the others, as quietly as I could to avoid it noticing us. "What's that language?"

"The tongue of the old times." Tyson shivered. "What Mother Earth spoke to Titans and…her other children. Before the gods."

That didn't sound good.

"You understand it?" I asked. "Can you translate?"

Tyson closed his eyes and began to speak in a horrible, raspy woman's voice. "You will work for the master or suffer."

Luke shuddered. "I really fucking hate it when he does that," he complained quietly. I shot him a look, and he fell silent again, clutching the pommel of his sword, Halcyon, so tightly that his knuckles turned stark white.

Like all Cyclopes, Tyson had superhuman hearing and an uncanny ability to mimic voices. It was almost like he entered a trance when he spoke in other voices. It disturbed Luke deeply, bringing back bad memories of when he was on the run, and I could admit, if only to myself, that it made me feel uneasy as well.

"I will not serve," Tyson continued, this time in a deep, wounded male voice.

He switched back to the monster's voice: "Then I shall enjoy your pain, Briaries." Tyson faltered when he said that name.

I'd never heard him break character when he was mimicking somebody before, but he let out a strangled gulp.

Then he continued in the monster's voice. "If you thought your first imprisonment was unbearable, you have yet to feel true torment. Think on this until I return."

The dragon lady tromped toward the stairwell, vipers hissing around her legs like grass skirts. She spread wings that I hadn't noticed before—huge bat wings she kept folded against her dragon back. She leaped off the catwalk and soared across the courtyard. We crouched lower in the shadows. A hot sulphurous wind blasted my face as the monster flew over. Then she disappeared around the corner.

Both Luke and I relaxed slightly, and Grover let out a sigh of relief. He was shaking in terror and I reached over to give him a pat.

"H-h-horrible," he whimpered. "I've never smelled any monster that strong."

"Cyclopes' worst nightmare," Tyson murmured. "Kampê."

"Who?" I asked, frowning and tensing. "And maybe don't say the name again, okay Baby?" Saying her name would draw her to us like a moth to a flame.

Tyson swallowed. "Every Cyclops knows about her. Stories about her scare us when we're babies. She was our jailer in the bad years."

Luke's eyes lit up in realization. "I think I remember now. When the Titans ruled, they imprisoned Gaea and Ouranos' earlier children—the Cyclopes and the, uh, the Hekatonkheires I think they were called."

"The Heka-what?" I asked. I was, like every demigod, fluent in Ancient Greek, and I made a point of learning as much as I could about the various species of creatures that existed, despite my distaste for academics. But that didn't sound familiar to me.

"The Hundred-Handed Ones," Luke told me, wrinkling his eyebrow in thought. "They called them that because…well, they had a hundred hands. They were elder brothers of the Cyclopes."

"Very powerful," Tyson exclaimed, eyes shining with awe. "Wonderful! As tall as the sky. So strong they could break mountains!"

"Well isn't that nice," I replied dryly. "Unless you're a mountain, of course."

"Kampê was the jailer," Tyson added, going solemn. "She worked for Kronos. She kept our brothers locked up in Tartarus, tortured them always, until Zeus came. He killed Kampê and freed Cyclopes and Hundred-Handed Ones to help fight against the Titans in the big war."

The story almost made Zeus seem like he wasn't a complete asshole, but I knew better. Still, that wasn't the main thing.

"And now Kampê is back," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Gods, how I loathed archetypes. Why was it that soulless monsters could return from oblivion over and over, while good, innocent half-bloods whose only crime was being a half-blood, usually died before turning twenty? Bitterness welled up in me, and not for the first time.

"Bad," Tyson summed up the whole situation up in a single word. It seemed a bit like an understatement, in my opinion.

"So who's in that cell?" I frowned. "You said a name—"

"Briaries!" Tyson perked up, his single brown eye lighting up with enthusiasm. "He is a Hundred-Handed One. They are as tall as the sky and—"

"Yeah," I cut him off. "They break mountains."

I glanced up at the ceiling doubtfully. Somehow, I found it hard to believe that a creature as 'tall as the sky' that could 'break mountains' could be stuck in a mortal prison. Even the Mist would have trouble covering  _that_ up.

Luke and I looked at each other, before I sighed again in resignation, straightening up. "I guess we should check it out," I decided, "before, uhm, the jailor comes back."

As we approached the cell, the weeping got louder. When I first saw the creature inside, it took me a minute to figure out what I was looking at.

He was human-size and his skin was very pale, the colour of milk. He wore a loincloth like a big diaper. His feet seemed too big for his body, with cracked dirty toenails, eight toes on each foot. But the top half of his body was the really weird part. He made Janus look downright normal. His chest sprouted more arms than I could count, in rows, all around his body. The arms looked like normal arms, but there were so many of them, all tangled together, that his chest looked kind of like a forkful of spaghetti somebody had twirled together. Several of his hands were covering his face as he sobbed.

"Either the sky isn't as tall as it used to be," I mumbled to Luke, "or he's short." He smirked and gave me a small nod of agreement before we returned our attention to the cell and the prisoner inside.

Tyson wasn't paying us any attention. He fell to his knees before the bars.

"Briaries!" he called.

The sobbing stopped.

"Great Hundred-Handed One!" Tyson cried. "Help us!"

Briaries looked up. His face was long and sad, with a crooked nose and bad teeth. He had deep brown eyes—I mean completely brown with no whites or black pupils, like eyes formed out of clay.

"Run while you can, Cyclops," Briaries said miserably, slumped with despair and hopelessness. "I cannot even help myself."

"You are a Hundred-Handed One!" Tyson insisted. "You can do anything!"

Briaries wiped his nose with five or six hands. Several others were fidgeting with little pieces of metal and wood from a broken bed, the way Tyson always played with spare parts. It was amazing to watch. The hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They built a toy boat out of wood, then disassembled it just as fast. Other hands were scratching at the cement floor for no apparent reason. Others were playing rock, paper, scissors. A few others were making ducky and doggie shadow puppets against the wall.

It made me wonder if he had too many limbs to control, and they all simply moved on instinct instead of directions from his brain.

"I cannot," Briaries moaned. "Kampê is back! The Titans will rise and throw us back into Tartarus."

"Put on your brave face!" Tyson urged.

Immediately Briaries' face morphed into something else. Same brown eyes, but otherwise totally different features. He had an upturned nose, arched eyebrows, and a weird smile, like he was trying to act brave. But then his face turned back to what it had been before.

"No good," he said. "My scared face keeps coming back."

"What the fuck?" I blinked.

"The Hundred-Handed Ones all have, like, fifty different faces, or something," Luke explained to me in a low voice.

"Must make it hard to get a yearbook picture," I answered, making him snort softly in amusement.

Tyson was still entranced. "It will be okay, Briaries! We will help you! Can I have your autograph?"

Briaries sniffled. "Do you have one hundred pens?"

"Guys," Grover interrupted. "We have to get out of here. Kam-, the jailor'll be back. She'll sense us sooner or later."

"I can unlock the door," Luke offered, eyeing the lock. "It's old. Won't take me two minutes."

"Have at it," I gestured to him.

"No need!" Tyson declared, smiling proudly. "Briaries can do it. He is very strong. Stronger than Cyclopes, even! Watch!"

Briares whimpered. A dozen of his hands started playing patty-cake, but none of them made any attempt to break the bars.

Luke and I exchanged quick looks. I knew how terrifying it was to be imprisoned, how tempting it was to give in and be spared pain. The burn scars that spread over the left side of my torso, one of multiple attempts to try and turn me against Olympus and my friends, tingled with phantom pain.

But, unlike Briaries, who had clearly let his fear overwhelm him and make him submit, I had fuelled my pain into rage and used it to cling to my defiance. But then again, I had only been held captive for a week, and my links with Grover and Luke had assured me that rescue was on the way. Not to mention the fact that, unlike Briaries, I was bred to be a fighter. I couldn't blame him for giving up. I could only feel pity for his suffering, and loathing for the Titans.

"Briaries?" Tyson asked uncertainly. The Hundred-Handed One had covered his face again. "What…what is wrong? Show us your great strength!"

"Breaking the bars would attract attention," I cut in smoothly. Tyson's smile had melted, and his bottom lip trembled slightly. "Luke, would you?"

He nodded, bending over. As he'd predicted, only a minute passed before the lock opened with a soft 'click' and the door swung open. The hinges mustn't've been oiled in a while, because it made a loud squeaking noise as it did so. Luke, Grover and I all flinched at the sound.

"Come on, Briaries," I offered in the gentle, coaxing tone I used when persuading some of the younger kids to do something. "Let's get you out of here."

I held out my hand. For a second, Briaries' face morphed to a hopeful expression. Several of his arms reached out, but twice as many slapped them away.

"I cannot," he said. "She will punish me."

"It's all right," Luke promised. "You fought the Titans before, and you won, remember?"

"I remember the war." Briaries' face morphed again—furrowed brow and a pouting mouth. His brooding face, I suppose. "Lightning shook the world. We threw many rocks. The Titans and the monsters almost won. Now they are getting strong again. Kampê said so."

"Don't listen to her," Luke urged. "Come on!"

He didn't move, and Luke and I exchanged helpless looks again. I knew Grover was right. We didn't have much time before Kampê returned. But I couldn't just leave him here. Tyson would cry for weeks.

"One game of rock, paper, scissors," I blurted out. "If I win, you come with us. If I lose, we'll leave you in jail."

Luke looked at me like I was crazy. Which, fair enough, I probably was. After everything that had happened, I had the right to be.

Briaries' face morphed to doubtful. "I always win rock, paper, scissors."

"Then there's nothing for you to worry about, is there?" I reasoned.

"I suppose," he sniffed.

"Then let's do it!" I pounded my fist in my palm three times.

Briaries did the same with all one hundred hands, which sounded like an army marching three steps forward. He came up with a whole avalanche of rocks, a classroom set of scissors, and enough paper to make a fleet of airplanes.

"I told you," he said sadly. "I always—" His face morphed to confusion. "What is that you made?"

"A gun," I told him, showing him my finger gun. It was a trick an old foster father, one of the more decent ones, had pulled on me when trying to make me do my homework. "A gun beats anything."

"That's not fair."

"I didn't say anything about fair.  _She's_  not going to be fair if we hang around. She's going to blame you for breaking the lock. Now come on!"

Briaries sniffled. "Demigods are cheaters." But he slowly rose to his feet and followed us out of the cell.

I dared to start feeling hopeful. All we had to do was get downstairs and find the Labyrinth entrance. But then Tyson froze.

On the ground floor right below, Kampê was snarling at us.

"The other way," I ordered.

We bolted down the catwalk. This time Briaries was happy to follow us. In fact he sprinted out front, a hundred arms waving in panic.

Behind us, I heard the sound of giant wings as Kampê took to the air. She hissed and growled in her ancient language, but I didn't need a translation to know she was planning to kill us.

We scrambled down the stairs, through a corridor, and past a guard's station—out into another block of prison cells.

"Left," Luke yelped, grabbing my wrist and dragging me around the corner. "Hurry! Hurry!"

Like we needed the reminder.

We burst outside and found ourselves in the prison yard, ringed by security towers and barbed wire. After being inside for so long, the daylight almost blinded me. Tourists were milling around, taking pictures. The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. Where I'd been imprisoned for a week last winter.

It was hard to believe the tourists couldn't see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn't give any hint that anything was wrong.

"Ana? Ana!" Luke shook me, snapping me from the frozen state I had gone into at the sight of the awful place. I gasped, realizing that I had stopped breathing for a moment.

"Keep moving," Briaries wailed. "She is behind us!"

We ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cellblock as possible.

"She's too big to get through the doors," I said hopefully. Of course, I should've known better than that. I jinxed it.

The wall exploded.

Tourists screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her wings spread out as wide as the yard. She was holding two swords—long bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.

"Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those things touch you or…"

"We'll die, got it," I snapped curtly, raising my sword in a guard position, Luke copying my movements.

"After crumbling painfully into dust," Grover added helpfully.

"We can't take her on," Luke muttered to me. "Especially not with all these people around. We'd be dead in seconds."

I nodded in acknowledgement, looking around for a convenient solution. I couldn't see one.

"Briaries, fight!" Tyson urged. "Grow to full size!"

Instead of following Tyson's pleas, Briaries looked like he was trying to shrink even smaller. He appeared to be wearing his absolutely terrified face.

Kampê thundered toward us on her dragon legs, hundreds of snakes slithering around her body.

My arm shook, and Luke stepped back, pulling me with him.

"We need to run," he stated, and I nodded, lowering my sword and grabbing Tyson's wrist.

"C'mon!" I instructed him sharply.

That was the end of the debate. There was no fighting this thing. We ran through the jail yard and out the gates of the prison, the monster right behind us. Mortals screamed and ran. Emergency sirens began to blare.

We hit the wharf just as a tour boat was unloading. The new group of visitors froze as they saw us charging toward them, followed by a mob of frightened tourists, followed by…I don't know what they saw through the Mist, but it could not have been good.

"The boat?" Grover asked.

"Too slow," Tyson answered. "Back into the maze. Only chance."

"We need a diversion," I pointed out.

Tyson ripped a metal lamppost out of the ground. "I will distract Kampê. You run ahead."

"I'll help you," I said immediately, horrified at the thought of my baby brother facing his childhood boogeymonster.

"No," Tyson replied. "You go. Poison will hurt Cyclopes. A lot of pain. But it won't kill."

"Are you sure?"

"Go, sister. I will meet you inside."

I hated the idea. I'd almost lost Tyson once before, and I didn't want to ever risk that again. But there was no time to argue, and I had no better idea. Luke, Grover, and I each took one of Briaries' hands and dragged him toward the concession stands while Tyson bellowed, lowered his pole, and charged Kampê like one of those medieval jousting knights.

She'd been glaring at Briaries, but Tyson got her attention as soon as he nailed her in the chest with the pole, pushing her back into the wall. She shrieked and slashed with her swords, slicing the pole to shreds. Poison dripped in pools all around her, sizzling into the cement.

Tyson jumped back as Kampê's hair lashed and hissed, and the vipers around her legs darted their tongues in every direction. A lion popped out of the weird half-formed faces around her waist and roared.

As we sprinted for the cellblocks, the last thing I saw was Tyson picking up a Dippin' Dots stand and throwing it at Kampê. Ice cream and poison exploded everywhere, all the little snakes in Kampê's hair dotted with tuttifrutti. We dashed back into the jail yard.

"Can't make it," Briares huffed.

"Tyson is risking his life to help you!" I yelled at him. "You  _will_ make it." If he did anything to make Tyson's sacrifice worthless, I'd kill him myself.

As we reached the door of the cellblock, I heard an angry roar. I glanced back and saw Tyson running toward us at full speed, Kampê right behind him. She was plastered in ice cream and T-shirts. One of the bear heads on her waist was now wearing a pair of crooked plastic Alcatraz sunglasses.

"Hurry!" Luke urged, like any of us actually needed to be told that.

We finally found the cell where we'd come in, but the back wall was completely smooth—no sign of a boulder or anything.

"Look for the mark!" Luke snapped.

"There!" Grover touched a tiny scratch, and it became a Greek ∆. The mark of Daedalus glowed blue, and the stone wall grinded open.

Too slowly. Tyson was coming through the cellblock, Kampê's swords lashing out behind him, slicing indiscriminately through cell bars and stone walls.

I pushed Briaries inside the maze, then Luke and Grover.

"You can do it!" I told Tyson. But immediately I knew that he couldn't. Kampê was gaining. She raised her swords. I need a distraction—something big. I slapped my bracelet and it spiralled into a bronze shield. Desperately, I threw it at the monster's face.

SMACK! The shield hit her in the face and she faltered just long enough for Tyson to dive past me into the maze. I was right behind him.

Kampê charged, but she was too late. The stone door closed and its' magic sealed us in. I could feel the whole tunnel shake as Kampê pounded against it, roaring in utter fury.

We didn't stick around to play knock, knock with her, though. We raced into the darkness, and for the first time (and definitely the last) I was glad to be back in the Labyrinth.


	8. We Visit the Demon Dude Ranch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The questers finally manage to find Nico.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. As always, thanks to everyone for faving, following, kudosing, etc this story.**

**Chapter Eight**

**We Visit the Demon Dude Ranch**

We finally stopped to rest after what I thought was an hour (though who knew when it came to the Labyrinth) in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one big pit, ringed by a slippery stone walkway. Around us, on all four walls, water tumbled from huge pipes. The water spilled down into the pit, and even when I shined a light, I couldn't see the bottom. The water was from the ocean, and I let out a sigh of relief as its' presence revitalized me.

Briaries slumped against the wall. He scooped up water in a dozen hands and washed his face. "This pit goes straight to Tartarus," he murmured. "I should jump in and save you trouble."

My relief at the presence of the water was immediately replaced by horror, and I quickly backed away from the pit.

"Don't talk that way," Luke urged Briaries while I eyed the pit nervously. "You can come back to camp with us. You can help us prepare. You know more about fighting Titans than anybody."

"I have nothing to offer," Briaries replied dully. "I have lost everything."

I exhaled a long gust of breath, rubbing my forehead. I was sympathetic for Briaries, up to a point. But I had no patience for self-pity, and I never had. My personal creed was: life sucks, so suck it up and get on with it. Briaries' continuous moping was pissing me off.

"What about your brothers?" Tyson asked. "The other two must stand tall as mountains! We can take you to them."

Briares' expression morphed to something even sadder: his grieving face no doubt. "They are no more. They faded."

The waterfalls thundered. Tyson stared into the pit and blinked tears out of his eye. Luke and I exchanged uneasy looks, making a ward against evil along with Grover.

Fading: the immortal's equivalent to death. It was a frightening topic to contemplate. I knew what would happen to me and any other human who died: we'd go to the Underworld. But what happened when an immortal faded? Merely thinking about it, especially with an entrance to Tartarus right beside us, seemed like we were inviting bad luck.

"I must go," Briaries said.

"Kronos' army will invade camp," Tyson pleaded. "We need help."

Briaries hung his head. "I cannot, Cyclops."

"You are strong."

"Not anymore." Briaries rose.

Glancing at Tyson, I sighed and decided to give it my best shot, even if I didn't think that it would work. It was worth a shot.

"Hey," I grabbed one of his arms and pulled him aside, where the roar of the water would hide our words. "Briaries, we need you. In case you haven't noticed, Tyson believes in you. He risked his life for you."

I told him about everything—Chase and Nakamura's invasion plan, the Labyrinth entrance at camp, Daedalus' workshop, Kronos' golden coffin.

Briaries just shook his head. "I cannot, demigod. I do not have a finger gun to win this game." To prove his point, he made one hundred finger guns.

"Maybe that's immortals fade," I answered. "Maybe it's not about what the mortals believe. Maybe it's because you give up on yourself."

His pure brown eyes regarded me. His face morphed into an expression I recognized—shame. Then he turned and trudged off down the corridor until he was lost in the shadows.

Tyson sobbed.

"It's okay," Grover hesitantly patted his shoulder, which must've taken all his courage, and I appreciated it, because I was too wrung out to do anything myself.

Tyson sneezed. "It's not okay, goat boy. He was my hero."

Finally I re-shouldered my backpack. "Come on, guys," I urged. "This pit is making me nervous. Let's find a better place to camp for the night."

We settled in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it could've been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fastened to the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, and after a quick discussion, Luke and I decided to treat it like it was a good sign.

"We must be close to Daedalus' workshop," I forced a smile that felt faker than plastic. "Get some rest, everybody. We'll keep going in the morning."

"How do we know when it's morning?" Grover asked.

"Just rest," Luke sighed.

Grover didn't need to be told twice. He pulled a heap of straw out of his pack, ate some of it, made a pillow out of the rest, and was snoring in no time. Tyson took longer getting to sleep. He tinkered with some metal scraps from his building kit for a while, but whatever he was making, he wasn't happy with it. He kept disassembling the pieces.

"I'm sorry I lost the shield," I told him. "You worked so hard to repair it."

Tyson looked up. His eye was bloodshot from crying. "Do not worry, sister. You saved me. You wouldn't have had to if Briaries had helped."

"He was just scared," I murmured. "I'm sure he'll get over it."

"He is not strong," Tyson said. "He is not important anymore." He heaved a big sad sigh, then closed his eye. The metal pieces fell out of his hand, still unassembled, and Tyson began to snore.

I turned to the last of my boys, leaning against the opposite wall. "I'll take the first watch," I told him. "Too keyed up to rest anyway. You get some sleep."

Luke glanced at me before he picked up his bedroll and dragged it over to where I was sitting.

"You doing all right?" his voice was knowing.

Nobody else knew me like Luke Castellan. It was an open secret in Camp that the both of us were in love with each other. It was an equally known fact that I had no intention of letting us go beyond flirting while the Great Prophecy hung like a Sword of Damocles over my head. Maybe I was a fool not to enjoy what I had while I had it, but I just couldn't.

"Sure. First day and we've not only made no progress, but I'm sure that Janus is pissed at me now since he didn't get whatever it was that he wanted, and Tyson's upset over his idol being a coward. I'm just great."

Luke wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him until my head was laying on his shoulder tiredly. I told myself that my blurred vision was a result of exhaustion and not unshed tears.

"We'll get there," Luke insisted. "We'll find the workshop before Annabeth and Ethan do."

"How can we be sure?" I demanded bitterly. "This place makes no sense. I mean, we're traveling but we have no idea where we'll end up. How can you walk from New York to California in a day? I'm not meant to be stuck in small spaces, Casanova. I feel like I'm suffocating."

He was quiet for a second before replying with a joke. "I could always give you mouth-to-mouth if you need more oxygen," he offered with an overly-lascivious wink at me. I let out a small laugh and slapped his shoulder gently.

"I'd rather kiss a gorgon," I scoffed jokingly. He clutched at his chest dramatically.

"I'm hurt, Ariel," he exclaimed. "Mortally wounded! How could you do this to me?"

I laughed again, but it trailed off quickly and my frown grew again. Looking around, I suddenly realized something.

"Nico is down here somewhere," I said. "That's how he disappeared from camp. He found the Labyrinth. Then he found a path that led down even farther—to the Underworld. But now he's back in the maze. He's desperate to get Bianca back, and that ghost is using his grief to manipulate him."

Luke was quiet for what felt like a long time. "Ana, I hope you're wrong. But if you're right…" he stared at the flashlight beam, casting a dim circle on the stone wall. I'd never seen him look more tired.

"I have to find him," he muttered. "Bianca-"

"It wasn't your fault," I repeated what I had said dozens of times before.

"Logically, I know that it was the Fates' will," he sighed. "But..."

"I understand," I reached over and gripped his free hand, stroking the knuckles that were scarred from years of fighting. "Go to sleep," I urged him again. "I'll wake you if something happens."

He looked like he was going to protest for a moment, before sighing reluctantly and laying down. His hand was curled around Halcyon's pommel, ready to jump into a fight the second he woke if needed.

I tilted my head back and stared up at the ceiling with various thoughts running through my mind. It felt like I had been transported back to last winter, and the sky was weighing me down once again.

***  
When it was my turn to sleep, I dreamed I was back in Daedalus' Labyrinth prison once again.

It looked more like a workshop now. Tables were littered with measuring instruments. A forge burned red hot in the corner. The boy that I'd seen in the last dream, Daedalus' son, was stoking the bellows, except he was taller now, almost my age. A weird funnel device was attached to the forge's chimney, trapping the smoke and heat and channelling it through a pipe into the floor, next to a big bronze manhole cover.

It was daytime. The sky above was blue, but the walls of the maze cast deep shadows across the workshop. After being in tunnels so long, I found it weird that part of the Labyrinth could be open to the sky. Somehow that made the maze seem like even a crueller place.

Daedalus himself looked sickly. He was terribly thin, his hands raw and red from working. White hair covered his eyes, and his tunic was smudged with grease. He was bent over a table, working on some kind of long metal patchwork—like a swath of chain mail. He picked up a delicate curl of bronze and fitted it into place.

"Done," he announced. "It's done."

He picked up his project. It was so beautiful, even  _my_  heart leaped—metal wings constructed from thousands of interlocking bronze feathers. There were two sets. One still lay on the table. Daedalus stretched the frame, and the wings expanded twenty feet. The craftsmanship was amazing. Metal feathers caught the light and flashed thirty different shades of gold.

If a mortal had made it, it would've been completely ornamental, and not even a quarter as well-crafted. But the greatest demigod inventor of all time had been the one to design and create it, so I knew that it would fly.

The boy left the bellows and ran over to see. He grinned, despite the fact that he was grimy and sweaty. "Father, you're a genius!"

The old man smiled. "Tell me something I don't know, Icarus. Now hurry. It will take at least an hour to attach them. Come."

Hubris. Arrogance. The fatal flaw of over 90% of Athena's children. This was going to go terribly wrong. I'd've been able to figure that out even if I hadn't known the story of Icarus already.

"You first," Icarus insisted.

The old man protested, but Icarus insisted. "You made them, Father. You should get the honour of wearing them first."

The boy attached a leather harness to his father's chest, like climbing gear, with straps that ran from his shoulders to his wrists. Then he began fastening on the wings, using a metal canister that looked like an enormous hot-glue gun.

"The wax compound should hold for several hours," Daedalus said nervously as his son worked. "But we must let it set first. And we would do well to avoid flying too high or too low. The sea would wet the wax seals—"

"And the sun's heat would loosen them," the boy finished. "Yes, Father. We've been through this a million times!"

"One cannot be too careful."

"I have complete faith in your inventions, Father! No one has ever been as smart as you."

The old man's eyes shone. It was obvious he loved his son more than anything in the world. I pitied him for what was about to happen.

"Now I will do your wings, and give mine a chance to set properly. Come!"

It was slow going. Daedalus' hands fumbled with the straps. He had a hard time keeping the wings in position while he sealed them. His own metal wings seemed to weigh him down, getting in his way while he tried to work.

"Too slow," he muttered. "I am too slow."

"Take your time, Father," Icarus reassured him. "The guards aren't due until—"

BOOM!

The workshop doors shuddered. Daedalus had barred them from the inside with a wooden brace, but still they shook on their hinges.

"Hurry!" Icarus cried, eyes widening in panic.

BOOM! BOOM!

Something heavy was slamming into the doors. The brace held, but a crack appeared in the left door.

Daedalus worked furiously. A drop of hot wax spilled onto Icarus' shoulder. The boy winced but did not cry out. When his left wing was sealed into the straps, Daedalus began working on the right.

"We must have more time," Daedalus murmured. "They are too early! We need more time for the seal to hold."

"It'll be fine," Icarus said, as his father finished the right wing. "Help me with the manhole—"

CRASH! The doors splintered and the head of a bronze battering ram emerged through the breach. Axes cleared the debris, and two armed guards entered the room, followed by the king with the golden crown and the spear-shaped beard.

"Well, well," the king said with a cruel smile. "Going somewhere?"

Daedalus and his son froze, their metal wings glimmering on their backs.

"We're leaving, Minos," the old man declared, as steely as any half-blood in the face of danger.

King Minos chuckled. "I was curious to see how far you'd get on this little project before I dashed your hopes. I must say I'm impressed." He admired their wings. "You look like metal chickens," Minos decided. "Perhaps we should pluck you and make a soup."

The guards laughed stupidly.

"Metal chickens," one repeated. "Soup."

I rolled my eyes, dryly hoping that stupidity wasn't contagious in dreams, otherwise I'd probably lost about ten brain cells just standing near those two sycophantic idiots.

"Shut up," the king snapped. Then he turned again to Daedalus. "You let my daughter escape, old man. You drove my wife to madness. You killed my monster and made me the laughingstock of the Mediterranean. You will never escape me!"

Icarus grabbed the wax gun and sprayed it at the king, who stepped back in surprise. The guards rushed forward, but each got a stream of hot wax in his face.

"The vent!" Icarus yelled to his father.

"Get them!" King Minos raged.

Together, the old man and his son pried open the manhole cover, and a column of hot air blasted out of the ground. The king watched, incredulous, as the inventor and son shot into the sky on their bronze wings, carried by the updraft.

"Shoot them!" the king yelled, but his guards had brought no bows. One threw his sword in desperation, but Daedalus and Icarus were already out of reach. They wheeled above the maze and the king's palace, then zoomed across the city of Knossos and out past the rocky shores of Crete. I was dragged along with them via the dream.

Icarus laughed. "Free, Father! You did it."

The boy spread his wings to their full limit and soared away on the wind.

"Wait!" Daedalus called. "Be careful!"

But Icarus was already out over the open sea, heading north and delighting in their good luck. He soared up and scared an eagle out of its flight path, then plummeted toward the sea like he was born to fly, pulling out of a nosedive at the last second. His sandals skimmed the waves.

"Stop that!" Daedalus called. But the wind carried his voice away. After years of captivity in the Labyrinth, Icarus was drunk on his own freedom.

The old man struggled to catch up, gliding clumsily after his son.

They were miles from Crete, over deep sea, when Icarus looked back and saw his father's worried expression.

Icarus smiled. "Don't worry, Father! You're a genius! I trust your handiwork—"

The first metal feather shook loose from his wings and fluttered away. Then another. Icarus wobbled in mid-air. Suddenly he was shedding bronze feathers, which twirled away from him like a flock of frightened birds.

"Icarus!" his father yelled. "Glide! Extend the wings. Stay as still as possible!"

But Icarus flapped his arms instead, desperately trying to reassert control.

The left wing went first—ripping away from the straps.

"Father!" Icarus cried in terror. And then he fell, the wings stripped away until he was just a boy in a climbing harness and a white tunic, his arms extended in a useless attempt to glide.

I woke with a start, feeling like I was falling. The corridor was dark. In the constant moaning of the Labyrinth, I thought I could hear the anguished cry of Daedalus calling his son's name, as Icarus, his only joy, plummeted toward the sea, three hundred feet below.

There was no morning in the maze, but once everyone woke up and had a fabulous breakfast of granola bars and juice boxes, we kept travelling. I didn't mention my dream. I was a superstitious person, like most demigods, and talking about the events of my dream seemed like it would attract more trouble than it was worth. The next time I spoke to Luke privately, I'd tell him what had happened.

The old stone tunnels changed to dirt with cedar beams, like a gold mine or something. Luke and I exchanged dark looks but said nothing to the others.  
Eventually, we came to a cave where stalactites hung low from the ceiling. In the centre of the dirt floor was a rectangular pit, like a grave.

Grover shivered. "It smells like the Underworld in here."

Then I saw something glinting at the edge of the pit—a foil wrapper. I shined my flashlight into the hole and saw a half-chewed cheeseburger floating in brown carbonated muck.

"Nico," I announced. "He was summoning the dead again."

Tyson whimpered. "Ghosts were here. I don't like ghosts."

"We've got to find him." I don't know why, but standing at the edge of that pit gave me a sense of urgency. Nico was close, I could feel it. I didn't even know the kid, but I knew his situation. Too powerful for his own good, cursed as a child of a broken Oath, and grieving the only family he had. I had to find him before the ghost tricked him into doing something terrible. I started to run.

"Ana! Wait!" Luke called, hurrying after me.

I ducked into a tunnel and saw light up ahead. By the time that the others had caught up with me, I was staring at daylight streaming through a set of bars above my head. We were under a steel grate made out of metal pipes. I could see trees and blue sky.

"Where are we?" I wondered.

Then a shadow fell across the grate and a cow stared down at me. It looked like a normal cow except with was a weird colour—bright red, like a cherry. I only knew of one species of cow that came in that colour, and the thought of meeting yet another god didn't make me feel particularly cheerful.

The cow mooed, put one hoof tentatively on the bars, then backed away.

"It's a cattle guard," Grover announced.

"A what?" I asked.

"They put them at the gates of ranches so cows can't get out. They can't walk on them."

"How do you know that?"

Grover huffed indignantly. "Believe me, if you had hooves, you'd know about cattle guards. They're annoying!"

I turned to Luke. "Didn't Hera say something about a ranch? We need to check it out. Nico might be there."

He hesitated for a second before nodding in agreement. "All right. But how do we get out?"

Tyson solved that problem by hitting the cattle guard with both hands. It popped off and went flying out of sight. We heard a CLANG! and a startled Moo! Tyson blushed.

"Sorry, cow!" he called.

Then he gave us a boost out of the tunnel.

We were on a ranch, all right. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted with oak trees and cactuses and boulders. A barbed wire fence ran from the gate in either direction. Cherry-coloured cows roamed around, grazing on clumps of grass.

"The cattle of the sun, right?" I muttered to Luke. He nodded, eyes scanning the area as carefully as my own.

"Yeah. But what are they doing—"

"Wait," Grover hissed. "Listen."

At first everything seemed quiet…but then I heard it: the distant baying of dogs. The sound got louder. Then the underbrush rustled, and two dogs broke through. Except it wasn't two dogs. It was one dog with two heads. It looked like a greyhound, long and snaky and sleek brown, but its neck V'd into two heads, both of them snapping and snarling and generally not very glad to see us.

"Bad Janus dog!" Tyson cried.

"Arf!" Grover told it, and raised a hand in greeting.

The two-headed dog bared its teeth. I guess it wasn't impressed that Grover could speak animal. Then its' master lumbered out of the woods, and I realized the dog was the least of our problems.

He was a huge guy with stark white hair, a straw cowboy hat, and a braided white beard— kind of like Father Time, if Father Time went redneck and got totally jacked. He was wearing jeans, a DON'T MESS WITH TEXAS T-shirt, and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off so you could see his muscles. On his right bicep was a crossed-swords tattoo. He held a wooden club about the size of a nuclear warhead, with six-inch spikes bristling at the business end.

"Heel, Orthus," he told the dog.

The dog growled at us once more, just to make his feelings clear, then circled back to his master's feet. The man looked us up and down, keeping his club ready.

"What've we got here?" he asked. "Cattle rustlers?"

"Just travellers," Luke said smoothly. "Got a bit lost I'm afraid."

The man's eye twitched. "Half-bloods, eh?"

"How did you know—" I started to ask suspiciously, but Luke stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Yes," he admitted. "I'm Luke, son of Hermes. This is Ana, daughter of Poseidon and our quest leader. Grover the satyr. Tyson the—"

"Cyclops," the man finished. "Yes, I can see that." He glowered at me. "And I know half-bloods because I am one, honey. I'm Eurytion, the cowherd for this here ranch. Son of Ares. You came through the Labyrinth like the other one, I reckon."

If he ever called me 'honey' again, I'd slit his neck. Then I zeroed in on his last few words.

"The other one?" I pressed. "You mean Nico di'Angelo?"

"We get a load of visitors from the Labyrinth," Eurytion replied darkly. "Not many ever leave."

"Wow," I said coolly, my fingers twitching for my sword or dagger. I wasn't picky. "I feel welcome."

The cowherd glanced bend him like someone was watching. Then he lowered his voice. "I'm only going to say this once, demigods. Get back in the maze now. Before it's too late."

"We're not leaving," I insisted. "Not until we see this other demigod."

Eurytion grunted. "Then you leave me no choice, missy. I've got to take you to the boss."

***  
Strangely enough, I didn't feel like we were hostages or anything. Eurytion walked alongside us with his club across his shoulder. Orthus the two-headed dog growled a lot and sniffed at Grover's legs and shot into the bushes once in a while to chase animals, but Eurytion kept him more or less under control.

We walked down a dirt path that seemed to go on forever. It must've been close to a hundred degrees, which was a shock after San Francisco. Heat shimmered off the ground. Insects buzzed in the trees. Before we'd gone very far, I was sweating like crazy, which always pissed me off, especially the feeling of my hair sticking to me. Flies swarmed us. Every so often we'd see a pen full of red cows or even stranger animals.

Once we passed a corral where the fence was coated in asbestos. Inside, a herd of fire-breathing horses milled around. The hay in their feeding trough was on fire. The ground smoked around their feet, but the horses seemed tame enough. One big stallion looked at me and whinnied, columns of red flame billowing out his nostrils. I wondered if it hurt his sinuses.

"What are they for?" I asked.

Eurytion scowled. "We raise animals for lots of clients. Apollo, Diomedes, and…others."

"Like who?"

"No more questions."

Luke and I exchanged dark looks. 'Titans' he mouthed at me. I gave a faint nod. That was the only reason I could think of that he would be reluctant to reveal his clients' identities.

Finally we came out of the woods. Perched on a hill above us was a big ranch house—all white stone and wood and big windows.

It just looked like the kind of place where a few demigods could get into serious trouble. We hiked up the hill.

"Don't break the rules," Eurytion warned as we walked up the steps to the front porch. "No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don't make any comments about the boss' appearance."

"Why?" I asked. "What does he look like?"

Before Eurytion could reply, a new voice said, "Welcome to the Triple G Ranch."

The man on the porch had a normal head, which was a relief. His face was weathered and brown from years in the sun. He had a slick black hair and a black pencil moustache like villains have in old movies. He smiled at us, but the smile wasn't friendly; more amused, like  _Oh boy, more people to torture!_

I didn't ponder that very long, though, because then I noticed his body…or bodies. He had three of them. Now you'd think I would've gotten used to weird anatomy after years of living in the world of Greek 'Myths', but this guy was three complete people.

His neck connected to the middle chest like normal, but he had two more chests, one to either side, connected at the shoulders, with a few inches between. His left arm grew out of his left chest, and the same on the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits, if that makes any sense. The chests all connected into one enormous torso, with two regular but very beefy legs, and he wore the most oversized pair of Levis I'd ever seen. His chests each wore a different colour Western shirt—green, yellow, red, like a stoplight. I wondered how he dressed the middle chest, since it had no arms.

The cowherd Eurytion nudged me. "Say Hello to Mr. Geryon."

"Hi," I said with faux brightness.

Before the three-bodied man could respond, Nico di'Angelo came out of the glass doors onto the porch. "Geryon, I won't wait for—"

He froze when he saw us. Then he drew his sword. The blade was just like I'd seen in my dream; short, sharp, and dark as midnight.

Geryon snarled when he saw it. "Put that away, Mr. Di'Angelo. I ain't gonna have my guests killin' each other."

"But that's—"

"Anaea Jackson," Geryon supplied. "Luke Castellan. And a couple of their monster friends. Yes, I know."

"Monster friends?" Grover said indignantly.

"That man is wearing three shirts," Tyson said, like he was just realizing this.

"They let my sister die!" Nico's voice trembled with rage. "They're here to kill me!"

"Nico, we're not here to kill you," Luke insisted while I raised my hands in a calming motion. "What happened to Bianca was—"

"Don't speak her name! You're not worthy to even talk about her!"

"Wait a minute," I cut in, pointing at Geryon. "How do you know our names?"

The three-bodied man winked. "I make it my business to keep informed, darlin'. Everybody pops into the ranch from time to time. Everyone needs something from ole Geryon. Now, Mr. Di'Angelo, put that ugly sword away before I have Eurytion take it from you."

Eurytion sighed, but he hefted his spiked club. At his feet, Orthus growled.

Nico hesitated. He looked thinner and paler than he had in the Iris-messages. I wondered if he'd eaten in the last week or if he used any food he got his hands on to summon the dead, draining his strength even more in the process. His black clothes were dusty from traveling in the Labyrinth, and his dark eyes were full of hate. He was too young to look so angry. He'd been so excited when we'd met at his old school. Reality had hit him hard.

Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword. "If you come near me, Luke, I'll summon help. Same goes for you, Ana. You don't want to meet my helpers, I promise."

"I believe you," Luke grimaced, casting me a helpless look. I shrugged back at him, silently communicating that we needed to wait. He nodded in agreement. Something was up with Geryon, and I was willing to bet that it had to do with the Titans. As per usual.

Geryon patted Nico's shoulder. "There, we've all made nice. Now come along, folks. I want to give you a tour of the ranch."

Geryon had a trolley thing—like one of those kiddie trains that take you around zoos. It was painted black and white in a cowhide pattern. The driver's car had a set of longhorns stuck to the hood, and the horn sounded like a cowbell. I figured maybe this was how he tortured people. He embarrassed them to death riding around in the moo-mobile. It was a new one, anyway.

Nico sat in the very back, probably so he could keep an eye on us. Eurytion crawled in next to him with his spiked club and pulled his cowboy hat over his eyes like he was going to take a nap. Orthus jumped in the front seat next to Geryon and began barking happily in two-part harmony.

Luke, Tyson, Grover, and I took the middle two cars.

"We have a huge operation!" Geryon boasted as the moo-mobile lurched forward. "Horses and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too."

We came over a hill, and Luke gasped. "Hippalektryons? I thought they were extinct!"

At the bottom of the hill was a fenced-in pasture with a dozen of the weirdest animals I'd ever seen. Each had the front half of a horse and the back half of a rooster. Their rear feet were huge yellow claws. They had feathery tails and red wings. As I watched, two of them got in a fight over a pile of seed. They reared up on their wings at each other until the smaller one galloped away, its' rear bird legs putting a little hop in its' step.

"Rooster ponies," Tyson said in amazement. "Do they lay eggs?"

"Once a year!" Geryon grinned in the rear-view mirror. "Very much in demand for omelettes!"

"That's horrible!" I protested. "They must be an endangered species!"

Geryon waved his hand. "Gold is gold, darling. And you haven't tasted the omelettes." I glared at the back of his head with disgust that had nothing to do with his appearance.

"That's not right," Grover murmured, but Geryon just kept narrating the tour.

"Now, over here," he said, "we have our fire-breathing horses, which you may have seen on your way in. They're bred for war, naturally."

"What war?" I asked innocently, pretending to be an idiot and hoping to get more info on his customers.

Geryon grinned slyly. "Oh, whichever one comes along. And over yonder, of course, are our prize red cows."

Sure enough, hundreds of the cherry-coloured cattle were grazing the side of the hill.

"So many," Grover gasped.

"Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see to them," Geryon explained, "so he subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously because there's such a demand."

"For what?" I asked, my stomach churning as I recalled the strangely-coloured 'burgers' that I'd seen some of my guards eat when I was a prisoner.

Geryon raised an eyebrow. "Meat, of course! Armies have to eat."

"You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat?" Grover exclaimed. "That's against the ancient laws!"

"Oh, don't get so worked up, satyr. They're just animals."

"Just animals!"

"Grover!" Luke and I snapped together. He looked ready to continue before falling silent at my death-glare. We couldn't afford a fight in a space like this. It was just asking to die.

Nico sat forward. "I don't care about any of this, Geryon. We had business to discuss, and this wasn't it!"

"All in good time, Mr. Di'Angelo. Look over here; some of my exotic game."

The next field was ringed in barbed wire. The whole area was crawling with giant scorpions.

"Triple G Ranch," I realized. "Your mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from you."

"Quintus…" Geryon mused. "Short grey hair, muscular, swordsman?"

"Yeah."

"Never heard of him," Geryon declared. "Now, over here are my prize stables! You must see them."

I didn't need to see them, because as soon as we got within three hundred yards I started to smell them. Near the banks of a green river was a horse corral the size of a football field. Stables lined one side of it. About a hundred horses were milling around in the muck—and when I say muck, I mean horse poop. It was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen, like a poop blizzard had come through and dumped four feet of the stuff overnight. The horses were really gross from wading through it, and the stables were just as bad. It reeked like you would not believe—worse than the garbage boats on the East River.

I went green and pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to keep myself from throwing up. My boys were in similar states too.

If Geryon had wanted to incapacitate us before killing us, he'd done a good job of it. Even Nico gagged. "What is that?"

"My stables!" Geryon said. "Well, actually they belong to Aegas, but we watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren't they lovely?"

"They're disgusting!" I groaned, understanding why the horses were swearing so much. If I had to live like that, I'd be cursing and threatening everybody around me too.

"Lots of poop," Tyson observed.

"How can you keep animals like that?" Grover cried.

"Y'all getting' on my nerves," Geryon said. "These are flesh-eating horses, see? They like these conditions."

"Plus, you're too cheap to have them cleaned," Eurytion mumbled from under his hat.

"Quiet!" Geryon snapped. "All right, perhaps the stables are a bit challenging to clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind blows the wrong way. But so what? My clients still pay me well."

"What clients?" I demanded, fed up with playing nice with one of Kronos' henchmen.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how many people will pay for a flesh-eating horse. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your enemies. Great at birthday parties! We rent them out all the time."

"You're a monster," Luke spat, contempt radiating from him.

Geryon stopped the moo-mobile and turned to look at him. "What gave it away? Was it the three bodies?"

"You have to let these animals go," Grover insisted. "It's not right!"

"And the clients you keep talking about. You work for Kronos, don't you?" I accused. "You're supplying his army with horses, food, whatever they need."

Geryon shrugged, which was very weird since he had three sets of shoulders. It looked like he was doing the wave all by himself. "I work for anyone with gold, young lady. I'm a businessman. And I sell them anything I have to offer."

He climbed out of the moo-mobile and strolled toward the stables as if enjoying the fresh air. It would've been a nice view, with the river and the trees and hills and all, except for the quagmire of horse muck.

Nico got out of the back car and stormed over to Geryon. The cowherd Eurytion wasn't as sleepy as he looked. He hefted his club and walked after Nico.

"I came here for business, Geryon," Nico said. "And you haven't answered me."

"Mmm." Geryon examined a cactus. His left arm reached over and scratched his middle-chest. "Yes, you'll get a deal, all right."

"My ghost told me you could help. He said you could guide us to the soul we need."

"Nico, don't be an idiot," I warned. "He's with the Titans, and they-"

"Shut up Ana!" he snarled. "I don't need help from you." He turned back to Geryon as I exchanged another worried look with Luke before the two of us swept the area again. Our chances weren't looking good, though it wasn't the worst situation that we'd ever been in. All it took was one slip, though.

"Now, can you help me, Geryon, or not?" Nico demanded.

"Oh, I imagine I could," the rancher replied off-handedly. 'Could' he had said. I braced myself. "Your ghost friend, by the way, where is he?"

Nico looked uneasy. "He can't form in broad daylight. It's hard for him. But he's around somewhere."

Geryon smiled. "I'm sure. Minos likes to disappear when things get…difficult."

"Minos?" I remembered the man I'd seen in my dreams, with the golden crown, the pointed beard, and the cruel eyes. The stories of the Cretan king so despicable his own children had turned against him. " _That's_  the ghost who's been giving you advice? Don't you know what he did? What're you  _thinking_?"

"It's none of your business, Ana!" Nico turned back to Geryon. "And what do you mean about things getting difficult?"

The three-bodied man sighed. "Well, you see, Nico—can I call you Nico?"

"No."

"You see, Nico, Annabeth Chase and Ethan Nakamura are offering very good money for half-bloods. Especially powerful half-bloods. And I'm sure when he learns your little secret, who you really are, he'll pay very, very well indeed."

Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion knocked it out of his hand. Before I could get up, Orthus pounced on my chest and growled, his faces an inch away from mine.

"I would stay in the car, all of you," Geryon warned. "Or Orthus will tear Ms Jackson's throat out. Now, Eurytion, if you would be so kind, secure Nico."

The cowherd spit into the grass. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you fool!"

Eurytion looked bored, but he wrapped one huge arm around Nico and lifted him up like a wrestler.

"Pick up the sword, too," Geryon said with distaste. "There's nothing I hate worse than Stygian Iron."

Eurytion picked up the sword, careful not to touch the blade.

"Now," Geryon said cheerfully, "we've had the tour. Let's go back to the lodge, have some lunch, and send an Iris-message to our friends in the Titan army."

"Bastard!" Luke spat.

Geryon smiled at her. "Don't worry, my dear. Once I've delivered Mr. Di'Angelo, you and your party can go. I don't interfere with quests. Besides, I've been paid well to give you safe passage, which does not, I'm afraid, include Mr. Di'Angelo.

"Paid by whom?" I demanded. "What do you mean?"

"Never you mind, darlin'. Let's be off, shall we?"

"Wait!" I called, and Orthus growled. I stayed perfectly still so he wouldn't tear my throat out. "Geryon, you said you're a businessman. Make me a deal."

Geryon narrowed his eyes. "What sort of deal? Do you have gold?"

"I've got something better. Barter."

"But Ms Jackson, you've got nothing."

"You could have her clean the stables," Eurytion suggested innocently.

"I'll do it!" I said. "If I fail, you get all of us. Trade us all to Chase and Nakamura for gold."

"Assuming the horses don't eat you," Geryon observed.

"Either way, you get my friends," I pointed out. "But if I succeed, you've got to let all of us go, including Nico."

"No!" Nico screamed. "Don't do me any favours, Ana. I don't want your help!"

Geryon chuckled. "Anaea Jackson, those stables haven't been cleaned in a thousand years…though it's true I might be able to sell more stable space if all that poop was cleared away."

"So what have you got to lose?"

The rancher hesitated. "All right, I'll accept your offer, but you have to get it done by sunset. If you fail, your friends get sold, and I get rich."

"Deal."

He nodded. "I'm going to take your friends with me, back to the lodge. We'll wait for you there."

Eurytion gave me a funny look. It might have been sympathy. He whistled, and the dog jumped off me and onto Luke's lap. He swore. I knew Tyson and Grover would never try anything as long as Luke was a hostage.

I got out of the car and locked eyes with him.

 _Be careful,_ he mouthed at me.

 _Aren't I always?_  I smirked back, hoping my panic wasn't obvious. The thought of being a prisoner again, or worse, of Luke, Tyson, Grover and Nico going through what I had last winter, made it hard to keep from blacking out.

He rolled his eyes, and for a moment I almost felt like it was seven months ago, when I had last been able to  _breathe_.

The feeling disappeared a second later when Geryon got behind the driver's wheel. Eurytion hauled Nico into the backseat.

"Sunset," Geryon reminded me. "No later."

He laughed at me once more, sounded his cowbell horn, and the moo-mobile rumbled off down the trail.


	9. Stables Stink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana kills Geryon.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Nine**

**Stables Stink. Literally**

I lost any shreds of hope that I'd had when I saw the horses' teeth.

As I got closer to the fence, I held my shirt over my nose to block out the smell, and I could still feel bile rising in my throat. One stallion waded through the muck and whinnied angrily at me. He bared his teeth, which were pointed like a bear's.

I tried to talk to him mentally, to get him to soften up a bit.

_Hi,_ I told him as brightly as I could manage. _I'm going to clean your stables. Won't that be great?_

_Yes!_ The horse said.  _Come inside! Eat you! Tasty half-blood!_

_But I'm Poseidon's child,_ I protested.  _He created horses._

Usually this gets me VIP treatment in the equestrian world, but not this time. Of course, that was just typical for my luck. Tyche really hated me.

_Yes!_ The horse agreed enthusiastically. _Poseidon can come in, too! We will eat you both! Seafood!_

_Seafood!_  The other horses chimed in as they waded through the field. Flies were buzzing everywhere, and the heat of the day didn't make the smell any better. I'd had some idea that I could do this challenge, because I remembered how Hercules had done it. He'd channelled a river into the stables and cleaned them out that way. I figured I could maybe control the water. But if I couldn't get close to the horses without getting eaten, that was a problem. And the river was downhill from the stables, a lot farther away than I'd realized, almost half a mile. It would be pushing the boundaries of my fragile control. The problem of the poop looked a lot bigger up close. I picked up a rusted shovel and experimentally scooped some away from the fence line. Great. Only four billion shovelfuls to go.

The sun was already sinking. I had a few hours at best. I decided the river was my only hope. At least it would be easier to think at the riverside than it was here. I set off downhill.

When I got to the river, I found a girl waiting for me. She was wearing jeans and a green T-shirt and her long brown hair was braided with river grass. She had a stern look on her face. Her arms were crossed.

"Oh no you don't," she said.

"Are you the naiad for this river?" I asked.

"Yes, and I know who you are," she snapped, keeping from speaking. "And I know what you want. And the answer is no! I'm not going to have my river used again to clean that filthy stable."

"But—"

"Oh, save it, sea girl. You ocean-god types always think you're soooo much more important than some little river, don't you? Well let me tell you, this naiad is not going to be pushed around just because your daddy is Poseidon. This is freshwater territory, missy. The last guy who asked me this favour, he convinced me, and that was the worst mistake I've ever made! Do you have any idea what all that horse manure does to my ecosystem? Do I look like a sewage treatment plant to you? My fish will die. I'll never get the much out of my plants. I'll be sick for years. NO THANK YOU!"

The way she talked made me feel kind of like she was punching me with words. I couldn't blame the naiad. Now that I thought about it, I'd be pretty mad if somebody dumped four million pounds of manure in my home. I hadn't considered that. But still…

"My friends are in danger," I told her, twisting a lock of hair around my finger. Really, I was just trying to think what to do. I couldn't destroy her home, especially given there was life in there.

"Well, that's too bad! But it's not  _my_  problem. And I'm not going to let you ruin my river."

She looked like she was ready for a fight. Her fists were balled, but I thought I heard a little quiver in her voice. Suddenly I realized that despite her angry attitude, she was afraid of me. She probably thought I was going to fight her for control of the river, and she was worried she would lose. It made me feel ashamed, like a bully.

I nodded softly, sitting on a tree stump. "Okay," I agreed.

The naiad looked surprised. "Really?"

"I'm not going to fight you. It's your river."

She relaxed her shoulders. "Oh. Oh, good. I mean—good thing for you!"

"But my friends and I are going to get sold to the Titans if I don't clean those stables by sunset. And I don't know how."

The river gurgled along cheerfully. A snake slid through the water and ducked its' head under. Finally the naiad sighed.

"I'll tell you a secret, daughter of the sea god. Scoop up some dirt."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Confused, I crouched down and scooped up a handful of Texas dirt. It was dry and black and spotted with tiny clumps of white rock…No, something besides rock.

"Those are shells," the naiad explained. "Petrified seashells. Millions of years ago, even before the time of the gods, when only Gaea and Ouranos reigned, this land was under the water. It was part of the sea."

Suddenly I saw what she meant. There were little pieces of ancient sea urchins in my hand, mollusk shells. Even the limestone rocks had impressions of seashells embedded in them.

"Okay," I said. "What good does that do me?"

"You're not so different from me, demigod. Even when I'm out of the water, the water is within me. It is my life source." She stepped back, put her feet in the river, and smiled. "I hope you find a way to rescue your friends."

And with that she turned to liquid and melted into the river.

***  
The sun was touching the hills when I got back to the stables. Somebody must've come by and fed the horses, because they were tearing into huge animal carcasses. I couldn't tell what kind of animal, and I really didn't want to know. If it was possible for the stables to get more disgusting, fifty horses tearing into raw meat did it. My stomach churned for about the millionth time that day.

_Seafood!_  one thought when he saw me.  _Come in! We're still hungry!_

What was I supposed to do? I couldn't use the river. And the fact that this place had been under water a million years ago didn't exactly help me now. I looked at the little calcified seashell in my palm, then at the huge mountain of dung.

Frustrated, I threw the shell into the poop. I was about to turn my back on the horses when I heard a sound.

PFFFFFFT! Like a balloon with a leak.

I looked down where I had thrown the shell. A tiny spout of water was shooting out of the muck.

"No way," I muttered. My luck was never that good.

Hesitantly, I stepped toward the fence. "Get bigger," I told the waterspout.

SPOOOOOOOSH!

Water shot three feet into the air and kept bubbling. It was impossible, but there it was. A couple of horses came over to check it out. One put his mouth to the spring and recoiled.

_Yuck!_ he exclaimed.  _Salty!_

It was seawater in the middle of a Texas ranch. I scooped up another handful of dirt and picked out the shell fossils. I didn't really know what I was doing, but I ran around the length of the stable, throwing shells into the dung piles. Everywhere a shell hit, a saltwater spring erupted.

_Stop!_ The horses cried.  _Meat is good! Baths are bad!_

Then I noticed the water wasn't running out of the stables or flowing downhill like water normally would. It simply bubbled around each spring and sank into the ground, taking the dung with it. The horse poop dissolved in the saltwater, leaving regular old wet dirt.

"More!" I yelled.

There was a tugging sensation in my gut, and the waterspouts exploded like the world's largest carwash. Salt water shot twenty feet into the air. The horses went crazy, running back and forth as the geysers sprayed them from all directions. Mountains of poop began to melt like ice.

The tugging sensation became more intense, painful even, but there was something exhilarating about seeing all that salt water. I had made this. I had brought the ocean to this hillside. I was also losing control.

_Stop, lady!_ a horse cried _. Stop, please!_

Water was sloshing everywhere now. The horses were drenched, and some were panicking and slipping in the mud. The poop was completely gone, tons of it just dissolved into the earth, and the water was now starting to pool, trickling out of the stable, making a hundred little streams down toward the river.

"Stop," I told the water.

Nothing happened. The pain in my gut was building. If I didn't shut off the geysers soon, the salt water would run into the river and poison the fish and plants.

"Stop!" I concentrated all my might on shutting off the force of the sea.

Suddenly the geysers shut down. I collapsed to my knees, exhausted. In front of me was a shiny clean horse stable, a field of wet salty mud, and fifty horses that had been scoured so thoroughly their coats gleamed. Even the meat scraps between their teeth had been washed out.

_We won't eat you!_ the horses wailed. _Please, lord! no more salty baths!_

"On one condition," I said. "You only eat the food your handlers give you from now on. Not people. Or I'll be back with more seashells!"

The horses whinnied and made me a whole lot of promises that they would be good flesh-eating horses from now on, but I didn't stick around to chat. The sun was going down. I turned and ran full speed toward the ranch house.

I smelled barbecue before I reached the house, and that made me even more pissed, because I really love barbecue.

The deck was set up for a party. Streamers and balloons decorated the railing. Geryon was flipping burgers on a huge barbecue cooker made from an oil drum. Eurytion lounged at a picnic table, picking his fingernails with a knife. The two-headed dog sniffed the ribs and burgers that were frying on the grill. And then I saw my friends: Tyson, Grover, Luke, and Nico all tossed in a corner, tied up like rodeo animals, with their ankles and wrists roped together and their mouths gagged.

"Let them go!" I yelled, still out of breath from running up the steps. "I cleaned the fucking stables!"

Geryon turned. He wore an apron on each chest, with one word on each, so together they spelled out: KISS—THE—CHEF. "Did you, now? How'd you manage it?"

I was pretty impatient and filled with nervous-energy, but I told him.

He nodded appreciatively. "Very ingenious. It would've been better if you'd poisoned that pesky naiad, but no matter."

"Let my friends go," I demanded, knowing as I spoke that he was going to back out. They always did. "We had a deal."

"Ah, I've been thinking about that. The problem is, if I let them go, I don't get paid."

"You promised!"

Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. "But did you make me swear on the River Styx? No you didn't. So it's not binding. When you're conducting business, honey, you should always get a binding oath."

I drew my sword. Orthus growled. One head leaned down next to Grover's ear and bared its' fangs.

"Eurytion," Geryon said, "the girl is starting to annoy me. Kill her."

Eurytion studied me. I didn't like my odds against him and that huge club. I was a good fighter, but physics weren't completely _irrelevant_  for half-bloods. Only mostly.

"Kill her yourself," Eurytion replied.

Geryon raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Eurytion grumbled. "You keep sending me out to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no good reason, and I'm getting tired of dying for you. You want to fight the kid, do it yourself."

It was the most un-Areslike thing I'd ever heard a son of Ares say.

Geryon threw down his spatula. "You dare defy me? I should fire you right now!"

"And who'd take care of your cattle? Orthus, heel."

The dog immediately stopped growling at Grover and came to sit by the cowherd's feet.

"Fine!" Geryon snarled. "I'll deal with you later, after the girl is dead!"

He picked up two carving knives and threw them at me. I deflected one with my sword. The other impaled itself in the picnic table an inch from Eurytion's hand.

I went on the attack. Geryon parried my first strike with a pair of red-hot tongs and lunged at my face with a barbecue fork. I got inside his next thrust and stabbed him right through the middle chest.

"Aghhh!" He crumpled to his knees. I waited for him to disintegrate, the way monsters usually do. But instead he just grimaced and started to stand up. The wound in his chef's apron started to heal.

"Nice try, honey," he smirked. "Thing is, I have three hearts. The perfect backup system."

He tipped over the barbecue, and coals spilled everywhere. One landed next to Luke's face, and he swore violently. Tyson strained against his bonds, but even his strength wasn't enough to break them. I had to end this fight before my friends got hurt.

"Stop calling me honey!" I snarled, as I jabbed Geryon in the left chest, but he only laughed. I stuck him in the right stomach. No good. I might as well have been sticking a sword in a teddy bear for all the reaction he showed.

Three hearts. The perfect backup system. Stabbing one at a time was no good….

I ran into the house.

"Coward!" he cried. "Come back and die right!"

Yeah, that was  _not_  gonna happen. I preferred to be an alive, dishonourable and cowardly cheater than dead with honour.

The living room walls were decorated with a bunch of gruesome hunting trophies—stuffed deer and dragon heads, a gun case, a sword display, and a bow with a quiver.

Geryon threw his barbecue fork, and it thudded into the wall right next to my head. He drew two swords from the wall display. "Your head's gonna go right there, Jackson! Next to the grizzly bear!"

"Can't it go beside the dragon instead?" I quipped, right before I lunged for my goal and grabbed the bow off the wall.

I was the worst archery shot in the world. I couldn't hit the targets at camp, much less a bull's eye. But I had no choice. I couldn't win this fight with a sword. I prayed to Artemis and Apollo, the twin archers, hoping they might take pity on me for once.  _Please, please. Just one shot. Please._

I notched an arrow.

Geryon laughed. "You fool! One arrow is no better than one sword."

He raised his swords and charged. I dove sideways. Before he could turn, I shot my arrow into the side of his right chest. I heard THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, as the arrow passed clean through each of his chests and flew out his left side, embedding itself in the forehead of the grizzly bear trophy.

Geryon dropped his swords. He turned and stared at me. "You can't shoot. They told me you couldn't…"

His face turned a sickly shade of green. He collapsed to his knees and began crumbling into sand, until all that was left were three cooking aprons and an oversized pair of cowboy boots.

I got my friends untied. Eurytion didn't try to stop me. Then I stoked up the barbecue and threw the food into the flames as a burnt offering for Artemis and Apollo.

"Thanks," I sighed. "I owe you two one." I hated owing gods. It never turned out well. But the sky thundered in the distance, so I figured that the burgers smelled okay at least.

"Yay for Ana!" Tyson cheered, clapping happily.

"Can we tie up the cowherd now?" Nico asked.

"Yeah!" Grover agreed. "And that dog almost killed me!"

I looked at Eurytion, who still was sitting relaxed at the picnic table. Orthus had both his heads on the cowherd's knees.

"How long will it take Geryon to re-form?" I asked him.

Eurytion shrugged. "Hundred years? He's not one of those fast re-formers, thank the gods. You've done me a favour."

"You said you'd died for him before," I remembered. "How?"

"I've worked for that creep for thousands of years. Started as a regular half-blood, but I chose immortality when my dad offered it. Worst mistake I ever made. Now I'm stuck here at this ranch. I can't leave. I can't quit. I just tend the cows and fight Geryon's fights. We're kinda tied together."

"Maybe you can change things," I suggested.

Eurytion narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"Be nice to the animals. Take care of them. Stop selling them for food. And stop dealing with the Titans."

Eurytion thought about that. "That'd be alright."

"Get the animals on your side, and they'll help you. Once Geryon gets back, maybe he'll be working for you this time."

Eurytion grinned. "Now, that I could live with."

"You won't try to stop us leaving?"

"Shoot, no."

Luke rubbed her bruised wrists. He was still glaring at Eurytion suspiciously. "Your boss said somebody paid for our safe passage. Who?"

The cowherd shrugged. "Maybe he was just saying that to fool you."

"What about the Titans?" I asked. "Did you Iris-message them about Nico yet?"

"Nope. Geryon was waiting until after the barbecue. They don't know about him."

Well, that was something, at least. Nico was glaring at me. I wasn't sure what to do about him. I doubted he would agree to come with us. On the other hand, I couldn't just let him roam around on his own.

"You could stay here until we're done with our quest," I told him. "It'd be safe."

"Safe?" Nico said. "What do you care if I'm safe? You people got my sister killed!"

Luke and I flinched in unison.

"We didn't-" I began to croak, only to be cut off.

"She died on a quest led by  _Luke_ , to save  _you_! It's your fault!"

"I'm sorry Nico," I whispered, before my voice strengthened. "But Geryon wasn't lying about the Titans wanting you to be on their side. If they catch, they won't give you a choice."

"I'm not on anyone's side. And I'm not afraid."

"You should be," I said. "Your sister wouldn't want—"

"If you cared for my sister, you'd help me bring her back!"

"A soul for a soul?" I checked.

"Yes!"

"But who—"

"I'm not explaining anything to you!" He blinked tears out of his eyes. "And I will bring her back."

"Bianca wouldn't want to be brought back," I told him. "Not like that."

"You didn't know her!" he shouted. "How do you know what she'd want?"

I stared at the flames in the barbecue pit. I thought about the line in my latest prophecy: _You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand._  That had to be Minos, and I had to convince Nico not to listen to him. "Let's ask Bianca."

The sky seemed to grow darker all of a sudden.

"I've tried," Nico said miserably. "She won't answer."

"Try again. I've got a feeling she'll answer with me here."

"Why would she answer for you and not me? She met you for like, six seconds. I'm her brother."

"Because she's been sending me Iris-messages," I said, suddenly sure of it. "She's been trying to warn me what you're up to, so I can protect you."

Nico shook his head. "That's impossible."

"One way to find out. You said you're not afraid." I turned to Eurytion. "We're going to need a pit, like a grave. And food and drinks."

"Ana," Luke warned. "I don't think this is a good—"

"All right," Nico said. "I'll try."

Eurytion scratched his beard. "There's a hole dug out back for a septic tank. We could use that. Cyclops boy, fetch my ice chest from the kitchen. I hope the dead like root beer."


	10. Summoning the Dead 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bianca appears, and the questers battle a Sphinx.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Ten**

**Summoning the Dead 101**

We did our summons after dark, at a twenty-foot-long pit in front of the septic tank. The tank was bright yellow, with a smiley face and red words painted on the side: HAPPY FLUSH DISPOSAL CO. It didn't quite go with the mood of summoning the dead.

The moon was full. Silver clouds drifted across the sky. I shifted uncomfortably, conscious of how fights were always worse after sunset. Monsters were stronger, for some reason, and harder to see, along with the terrain. The brighter the day the better, in my humble opinion.

"Minos should be here by now," Nico said, frowning. "It's full dark."

"Maybe he got lost," I suggested hopefully. The dead king was evil, I was sure of it. I didn't want him around, pouring poison in Nico's ears.

Nico poured root beer and tossed barbecue into the pit, then began chanting in Ancient Greek. Immediately the bugs in the woods stopped chirping. In my pocket, the Stygian ice dog whistle started to grow colder, freezing against the side of my leg.

"Make him stop," Tyson whispered to me.

Part of me agreed. This was unnatural. The night air felt cold and menacing. My instincts were screeching worse than when I'd been on Mt. Othrys, right before Annabeth had coerced me into taking the sky from her.

But before I could say anything, the first spirits appeared. Sulphurous mist seeped out of the ground. Shadows thickened into human forms. One blue shade drifted to the edge of the pit and knelt to drink.

"Stop him!" Nico cried, momentarily breaking his chant. "Only Bianca may drink!"

I drew Riptide. The ghosts retreated with a collective hiss at the sight of my celestial bronze blade. But it was too late to stop the first spirit. He had already solidified into the shape of a bearded man in white robes. A circlet of gold wreathed his head, and even in death his eyes were lit with malice. My ever-present dread went up another dozen notches.

"Minos!" Nico exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"My apologies, master," the ghost apologised, though he didn't sound very sorry. "The sacrifice smelled so good, I couldn't resist." He examined his own hands and smiled. "It is good to see myself again. Almost in solid form—"

"You are disrupting the ritual!" Nico protested. "Get—"

The spirits of the dead began shimmering dangerously bright, and Nico had to take up the chant again to keep them at bay.

"Yes, quite right, master," Minos said with amusement. "You keep chanting. I've only come to protect you from these liars who would deceive you."

He turned to me as if I were some kind of cockroach. "Anaea Jackson…my, my, my. The children of Poseidon haven't improved over the centuries, have they?"

I wanted to punch him, but I figured my fist would go right through his face. "We're looking for Bianca di Angelo," I bit out. "Get lost."

The ghost chuckled. "I understand you once killed my Minotaur with your bare hands. But worse things await you in the maze. Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?"

The other spirits stirred in agitation. Luke drew Halcyon and helped me keep them away from the pit. Grover got so nervous he clung to Tyson's shoulder.

"Daedalus cares nothing for you, half-bloods," Minos warned. "You can't trust him. He is old beyond counting, and crafty. He is bitter from the guilt of murder and is cursed by the gods."

"The guilt of murder?" I asked, momentarily distracted. "Who did he kill?"

"Do not changed the subject!" the ghost growled. "You are hindering Nico. You try to persuade him to give up on his goal. I would make him a lord!"

"Enough, Minos," Nico commanded.

The ghost sneered. "Master, these are your enemies. You must not listen to them! Let me protect you. I will turn their minds to madness, as I did the others."

I felt as if I'd been slapped, speechless in my fury at his confession. Luke didn't have that problem, raising his sword with utter fury crossing his expression.

"The others?" he snarled. "You mean Chris Rodriguez? My brother? That was you? You μπάσταρδος!"

"The maze is my property," the ghost retorted angrily, "not Daedalus'! Those who intrude deserve madness." If he weren't already dead, I'd've killed him right then and there. Unless Luke beat me to it, of course.

"Be gone, Minos!" Nico demanded. "I want to see my sister!"

The ghost bit back his rage. "As you wish, master. But I warn you. You cannot trust these heroes."

With that, he faded into mist.

Other spirits rushed forward, but Luke and I kept them back with our swords.

"Bianca, appear!" Nico intoned. He started chanting faster, and the spirits shifted restlessly.

"Any time now," Grover muttered.

Then a silvery light flickered in the trees—a spirit that seemed brighter and stronger than the others. It came closer, and something told me to let it pass. It knelt to drink at the pit. When it arose, it was the ghostly form of Bianca di'Angelo. I had only seen her in person once, for a few moments where I had been mostly focused on fighting the manticore, but I still recognised her.

Nico's chanting faltered. I lowered my sword. The other spirits started to crowd forward, but Bianca raised her arms and they retreated into the woods.

"Hello, Ana," she greeted me with a sad smile. Her gaze shifted to Luke. "Hey Luke."

She looked the same as she had in life: a green cap set sideways on her thick black hair, dark eyes and olive skin like her brother. She wore jeans and a silvery jacket, the outfit of a Hunter of Artemis. A bow was slung over her shoulder. She smiled faintly, and her whole form flickered.

"Bianca," Luke said. His voice was thick with guilt, and I reached out to clasp his hand, running a calloused thumb over his scarred knuckles in an attempt to comfort him. "I'm so sorry," he told her, looking pained.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Luke. I made my own choice. I don't regret it."

"Bianca!" Nico stumbled forward like he was just coming out of a daze.

She turned toward her brother. Her expression was sad, as if she'd been dreading this moment. Maybe she had been. "Hello, Nico. You've gotten so tall."

"Why didn't you answer me sooner?" he cried. "I've been trying for months!"

"I was hoping that you would give up."

"Give up?" He sounded heartbroken, and the sound tugged at my own heartstrings. I hated how much I understood both of the di'Angelos' perspectives on this whole mess. "How can you say that? I'm trying to save you!"

"You can't, Nico. Don't do this. Ana and Luke are right."

"No! Luke let you die! They're not your friends."

Bianca stretched out a hand as if to touch her brother's face, but she was made of mist. Her hand evaporated as it got close to living skin.

"You must listen to me," she urged. "Holding a grudge is dangerous for a child of Hades. It is our fatal flaw. You have to forgive. You have to promise me this."

"I can't. Never."

"Ana and Luke have been worried about you, Nico. They can help. I let her see what you were up to, hoping that she would find you. She understands more than anybody else what you're going through."

"So it  _was_  you," I stated. "You sent those Iris-messages."

Bianca nodded.

"Why are you helping her and not me?" Nico screamed. "It's not fair!"

Welcome to life, kid, I thought darkly. It's not fair to anyone, especially not half-bloods.

"You are close to the truth now," Bianca told him. "It's not Ana or Luke that you're mad at, Nico. It's me."

"No."

"You're mad because I left you to become a Hunter of Artemis. You're mad because I died and left you alone. I'm sorry for that, Nico. I truly am. But you must overcome the anger. And stop blaming others for my choices. It will be your doom."

"She's right," Grover broke in, somehow finding the courage to speak despite his fear of the dead. "Kronos is rising, Nico. He'll twist anyone he can to his cause."

"I don't care about Kronos," Nico declared. "I just want my sister back."

"You can't have that, Nico," Bianca told him gently.

"I'm the son of Hades! I can."

"Don't try," she pleaded. "If you love me, don't…"

Her voice trailed off. Spirits had started to gather around us again, and they seemed agitated. Their shadows shifted.

_Danger!_ Their voices whispered in warning.

"Tartarus stirs," Bianca announced. "Your power draws the attention of Kronos. The dead must return to the Underworld. It is not safe for us to remain."

"Wait," Nico exclaimed, eyes going wide with panic as he reached for her. "Please—"

"Good-bye, Nico," Bianca said. "I love you. Remember what I said."

Her form shivered and the ghosts disappeared, leaving us alone with a pit, a Happy Flush septic tank, and a cold full moon.

***  
None of us were anxious to travel that night, so we decided to wait until morning. Grover and I crashed on the leather couches in Geryon's living room, which was a lot more comfortable than a bedroll in the maze; but it didn't make my nightmares any better.

I dreamed I was with Ethan, walking through the dark palace on top of Mount Tam. Annabeth was nowhere to be seen.

The Titans' stronghold was a real building now—not some half-finished illusion like I'd been trapped in last winter. Strangely, it almost made it easier to deal with, despite the chilling power that made me long to flee and impacted my ability to breathe. Green fires burned in braziers along the walls. The floor was polished black marble. A cold wind blew down the hallway, and above us through the open ceiling, the sky swirled with grey storm clouds.

Nakamura was dressed for battle. He wore camouflage pants, a white T-shirt, and a bronze breastplate, but his sword, Backbiter, wasn't at his side—only and empty scabbard. We walked into a large courtyard where dozens of warriors and dracaenae were preparing for war. When they saw him, the demigods rose to attention. They beat their swords against their shields.

"Issss it time, my lord?" a dracaena asked.

"Soon," Ethan promised. "Continue your work."

"My lord," a voice said behind him. Kelli the empousa was smiling at him. She wore a blue dress tonight, and looked wickedly beautiful. Her eyes flickered—sometimes dark brown, sometimes pure red. Her hair was braided down her back and seemed to catch the light of the torches, as if it were anxious to turn back into pure flame.

My heart was pounding from the stress of being back in my personal hell. I waited for Kelli to see me, to chase me out of the dream as she did before, but this time she didn't seem to notice me.

Small mercies.

"You have a visitor," Kelli informed Ethan. She stepped aside, and even Ethan seemed stunned by what he saw.

The monster Kampê towered above him. Her snakes hissed around her legs. Animal heads growled at her waist. Her swords were drawn, shimmering with poison, and with her bat wings extended, she took up the entire corridor. I recoiled, my hand going automatically to my hairpin, despite knowing the futility of my actions.

"You." Ethan's voice sounded a little shaky. "You were told to stay on Alcatraz."

Kampê's eyelids blinked sideways like a reptile's and she spoke in that weird rumbling language. This time, however, I understood, somewhere in the back of my mind:  _I come to serve. Give me revenge._

"You're a jailor," Ethan stated. "Your job—"

_I will have them dead. No one escapes me._

I swallowed nervously, my stomach twisting uncomfortably.

Ethan hesitated. A line of sweat trickled down the side of his face. "Very well," he said. "You will go with us. You may carry Ariadne's string. It is a position of great honour."

They had the string already? Fates preserve us.

Kampê hissed at the stars. She sheathed her swords and turned, pounding down the hallway on her enormous dragon legs.

"We should have left that one in Tartarus," Ethan mumbled. "She is too chaotic. Too powerful."

Kelli laughed softly. "You should not fear power, Ethan. Use it!"

"The sooner we leave, the better," Nakamura said. "I want this over with."

"Aww," Kelli sympathized, running a finger down his arm. "You find it unpleasant to destroy your old camp?"

"I didn't say that."

"You're not having second thoughts about your own, ah, special part?"

Ethan's face turned stony. "I know my duty."

"That is good," the demon purred. "Is our strike force sufficient, do you think? Or will I need to call Mother Hecate for help?"

"We have more than enough," Nakamura replied grimly. "The deal is almost complete. All I need now is to negotiate safe passage through the arena."

My heart jumped into my throat at the news, and I clenched my fists tight enough to make them bleed, if I weren't dreaming.

"Mmm," Kelli said. "That should be interesting. I would hate to see your handsome head on a spike if you fail."

"I will not fail. And you, demon, don't you have other matters to attend to?"

"Oh, yes." Kelli smiled. "I am bringing despair to your eavesdropping enemies. I am doing that right now."

She turned her eyes directly on me, exposed her talons, and ripped through my dream. Suddenly I was in a different place.

I stood at the top of a stone tower, overlooking rocky cliffs and the ocean below. The old man Daedalus was hunched over a worktable, wrestling with some kind of navigational instrument, like a huge compass. He looked years older than when I'd last seen him. He was stooped and his hands were gnarled. His face was aged by bitterness, time, and grief. His son's death had not done him any good, obviously, despite his freedom. He cursed in Ancient Greek and squinted as if he couldn't see his work, even though it was a sunny day.

"Uncle!" a voice called.

A smiling boy about Nico's age came bounding up the steps, carrying a wooden box.

"Hello, Perdix," the old man greeted him, though his tone sounded cold. "Done with your projects already?"

"Yes, Uncle. They were easy!"

Daedalus scowled. "Easy? The problem of moving water uphill without a pump was easy?"

"Oh, yes! Look!"

The boy dumped his box and rummaged through the junk. He came up with a strip of papyrus and showed the old inventor some diagrams and notes. They didn't make any sense to me, but Daedalus nodded grudgingly. "I see. Not bad."

"The king loved it!" Perdix declared, a bright smile on his face. "He said I might be even smarter than you!"

"Did he now?"

"But I don't believe that. I'm so glad Mother sent me to study with you! I want to know everything you do."

"Yes," Daedalus muttered. "So when I die, you can take my place, eh?"

The boy's eyes widened. "Oh no, Uncle! But I've been thinking…why does a man have to die, anyway?"

The inventor scowled. "It is the way of things, lad. Everything dies but the gods."

"But why?" the boy insisted. "If you could capture the animus, the soul in another form…well, you've told me about your automatons, Uncle. Bulls, eagles, dragons, horses of bronze. Why not a bronze form for a man?"

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, warning me that something terrible was going to happen. I wanted to close my eyes and cover my ears, but I knew from past experience with demigod dreams just how utterly useless those actions were. What was with people and living forever anyway? I couldn't think of anything worse.

"No, my boy," Daedalus said sharply. "You are naïve. Such a thing is impossible."

"I don't think so," Perdix insisted. "With the use of a little magic—"

"Magic? Bah!"

"Yes, Uncle! Magic and mechanics together—with a little work, one could make a body that would look exactly human, only better. I've made some notes."

He handed the old man a thick scroll. Daedalus unfurled it. He read for a long time. His eyes narrowed. He glanced at the boy, then closed the scroll and cleared his throat. "It would never work, my boy. When you're older, you'll see."

"Can I fix that astrolabe, then, Uncle? Are your joints swelling up again?"

The old man's jaw clenched. "No. Thank you. Now why don't you run along?"

Perdix didn't seem to notice the old man's anger. He snatched a bronze beetle from his mound of stuff and ran to the edge of the tower. A low sill ringed the rim, coming just up to the boy's knees. The wind was strong.

Move back, I wanted to tell him. But my voice didn't work.

Perdix wound up the beetle and tossed it into the sky. It spread its' wings and hummed away. Perdix laughed with delight.

"Smarter than me," Daedalus mumbled, too soft for the boy to hear.

"Is it true that your son died flying, Uncle? I heard you made him enormous wings, but they failed."

Perdix was a child. He had no idea what he was risking. No idea of the danger he had placed himself in by accidentally provoking Daedalus. After all, demigods had killing in our blood.

It broke my heart to watch, but I forced myself to keep looking.

Daedalus' hands clenched. "Take my place," he muttered.

The wind whipped around the boy, tugging at his clothes, making his hair ripple.

"I would like to fly," Perdix mused, making me flinch. "I'd make my own wings that wouldn't fail. Do you think I could?"

Maybe it was a dream within my dream, but suddenly I could see the two-headed god Janus shimmering in the air next to Daedalus, smiling as he tossed a silver key from hand to hand.  _Choose,_ he whispered to the old inventor.  _Choose._

Daedalus picked up another one of the boy's metal bags. The inventor's old eyes were red with anger.

"Perdix," he called. "Catch."

He tossed the bronze beetle toward the boy. Delighted, Perdix tried to catch it, but the throw was too long. The beetle sailed into the sky, and Perdix reached a little too far. The wind caught him.

Somehow he managed to grab the rim of the tower with his fingers as he fell. "Uncle!" he screamed. "Help me!"

The old man's face was a mask. He did not move from his spot.

"Go on, Perdix," Daedalus said softly. "May your own wings. Be quick about it."

"Uncle!" the boy cried as he lost his grip. He tumbled toward the sea.

There was a moment of deadly silence. The god Janus flickered and disappeared. Then thunder shook the sky. A woman's stern voice spoke from above:  _You will pay the price for that, Daedalus._

I'd heard that voice before. It was Athena, goddess of wisdom.

Daedalus scowled up at the heavens. "I have always honoured you, Mother. I have sacrificed everything to follow your way."

_Yet the boy had my blessing as well. And you have killed him. For that, you must pay_.

Well, I could agree with her on that, at least. Murder should never go unpunished. I hoped Perdix found peace in the Underworld, despite his youth.

'I have paid and paid!" Daedalus growled. "I've lost everything. I'll suffer in the Underworld, no doubt. But in the meantime…"

He picked up the boy's scroll, studied it for a moment, and slipped it into his sleeve.

I scowled, realizing how Daedalus could still be alive after so long.

_You do not understand,_  Athena said coldly.  _You will pay now and forever._

Suddenly Daedalus collapsed in agony. I felt what he felt. A searing pain closed around my neck like a molten-hot collar—cutting off my breath, making everything go black.

I woke in the dark, my hands clutching my throat.

"Ana?" Grover called from the other sofa. "Are you okay?"

I steadied my breathing. I wasn't sure how to answer. I'd just watched the guy we were looking for, Daedalus, murder his own nephew. Not to mention my trip to Mount Othrys, the place that had been haunting my nightmares for months. How could I be okay? The television was going. Blue light flickered through the room. My heart was beating so fast, I thought it might burst out of my chest.

"What—what time is it?" I croaked.

"Two in the morning," Grover replied. "I couldn't sleep. I was watching the Nature Channel." He sniffled. "I miss Juniper."

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "Yeah, well…you'll see her again soon."

Grover shook his head sadly. "Do you know what day it is, Ana? I just saw it on TV. It's June thirteenth. Seven days since we left camp."

"What?" I gasped, jolting upright and going wide-eyed. "That can't be right!"

"Time is faster in the Labyrinth," Grover reminded me. "The first time you and Luke went down there, you thought you were only gone a few minutes, right? But it was an hour."

"Oh," I said. "Right." Then it dawned on me what he was saying, and my throat felt searing hot again. "Your deadline with the Council of Cloven Elders."

Grover put the TV remote in his mouth and crunched off the end of it. "I'm out of time," he said with a mouthful of plastic. "As soon as I go back, they'll take away my searcher's license. I'll never be allowed to go out again."

"We'll talk to them," I promised. "Make them give you more time."

Grover swallowed. "They'll never go for it. The world is dying, Ana. What you did today—saving the ranch animals from Geryon—that was amazing. I—I wish I could be more like you."

"Hey," I said. "Don't say that. You're just as much a hero—"

"No I'm not. I keep trying, but…" He sighed. "Ana, I can't go back to camp without finding Pan. I just can't. You understand that, don't you? I can't face Juniper if I fail. I can't even face myself."

His voice was so unhappy it hurt to hear. We'd been through a lot together, but I'd never heard him sound this down.

"We'll figure out something," I said. "You haven't failed. You're the champion goat boy, all right? Juniper knows that. So do I."

Grover closed his eyes. "Champion goat boy," he muttered dejectedly.

A long time after he dozed off, I was still awake, watching the blue light of the Nature Channel wash over the stuffed trophy heads on Geryon's walls. I tried to pretend that my blurred vision was the result of tiredness, not unshed tears.

***  
The next morning we walked down to the cattle guard and said our good-byes.

"Nico, you could come with us," I blurted out. I guess I was thinking about my dream, and how much the young boy Perdix reminded me of Nico.

He shook his head. I don't think any of us had slept well in the demon ranch house, but Nico looked worse than anybody else. His eyes were red and his face chalky. He was wrapped in a black robe that must've belonged to Geryon, because it was three sizes too big even for a grown man.

"I need time to think." His eyes wouldn't meet mine, but I could tell from his tone he was still angry. The fact that his sister had come out of the Underworld for me and not for him didn't seem to sit well with him. I could hardly blame him for that. In his position, I'd've been bitter too.

"Nico," Luke said carefully. "Bianca just wants you to be okay."

He reached out to put his hand on Nico's shoulder, but he pulled away and trudged up the road toward the ranch house. Maybe it was my imagination, but the morning mist seemed to cling to him as he walked.

"I'm worried about him," Luke muttered to me. "If he starts talking to Minos' ghost again—"

"He'll be alright," Eurytion promised. The cowherd had cleaned up nicely. He was wearing new jeans and a clean Western shirt and he'd even trimmed his beard. He'd put on Geryon's boots. "The boy can stay here and gather his thoughts as long as he wants. He'll be safe, I promise."

"What about you?" I asked.

Eurytion scratched Orthus behind one chin, then the other. "Things are going to be run a little different on this ranch from now on. No more sacred cattle meat. I'm thinking about soybean patties. And I'm going to befriend those flesh-eating horses. Might just sign up for the next rodeo."

The idea made me shudder. "Well, good luck."

"Yep." Eurytion spit into the grass. "I reckon you'll be looking for Daedalus' workshop now?"

"Can you help us?" Luke asked, in a wary tone. Help rarely came free, after all.

Eurytion studied the cattle guard, and I got the feeling the subject of Daedalus' workshop made him uncomfortable. It made me uncomfortable too, despite being in charge of the quest to find the damn place.

"Don't know where it is. But Hephaestus probably would."

"That's what Hera said," I agreed. "But how do we find Hephaestus?"

Eurytion pulled something from under the collar of his shirt. It was a necklace—a smooth silver disk on a silver chain. The disk had a depression on the middle, like a thumbprint. He handed it to me.

"Hephaestus comes here from time to time," Eurytion said. "Studies the animals and such so he can make bronze automaton copies. Last time, I— uh—did him a favour. A little trick he wanted to play on my dad, Ares, and Aphrodite. He gave me that chain in gratitude. Said if I ever needed to find him, the disk would lead me to his forges. But only once."

"And you're giving it to me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eurytion blushed. "I don't need to see the forges, miss. Got enough to do here. Just press the button and you'll be on your way."

I pressed the button and the disk sprang to life. It grew eight metallic legs. I hissed in surprise and dropped it. Immediately, the spider scrambled to the cattle guard and disappeared between the bars.

"Hurry," I ordered, silently thanking Hephaestus that it wasn't a snake. "That thing's not going to wait for us."

We said our good-byes to Eurytion, Tyson pulled the cattle guard off the hole, and we dropped back into the maze.

***  
I wish I could've put the mechanical spider on a leash. It scuttled along the tunnels so fast, most of time I couldn't even see it. If it hadn't been for Tyson's and Grover's excellent hearing, we never would've known which way it was going.

We ran down a marble tunnel, then dashed to the left and almost fell into an abyss. Tyson grabbed me and hauled me back before I could fall. The tunnel continued in front of us, but there was no floor for about a hundred feet, just gaping darkness and a series of iron rungs in the ceiling. The mechanical spider was about halfway across, swinging from bar to bar by shooting out metal web fibre.

"Maia!" Luke called, the wings of his shoes springing out. Before I could protest, he'd grabbed me around the waist and flown me over. He set me down, then went over to repeat the process with Grover. Tyson, obviously, had to make his own way across.

The big guy made it across in three swings, which was a good thing since, just as he landed, the last iron bar ripped free under his weight.

We kept moving and passed a skeleton crumpled in the tunnel. It wore the remains of a dress shirt, slacks, and a tie. The spider didn't slow down. I slipped on a pile of wood scraps, but when I shined a light on them I realized they were pencils—hundreds of them, all broken in half.

The tunnel opened up onto a large room. A blazing light hit us. Once my eyes adjusted, the first thing I noticed were the skeletons. Dozens littered the floor around us. Some were old and bleached white. Others were more recent and a lot grosser. They didn't smell quite as bad as Geryon's stables, but almost.

Then I saw the monster. She stood on a glittery dais on the opposite side of the room. She had the body of a huge lion and the head of a woman. She would've been pretty, but her hair was tied back in a tight bun and she wore too much makeup, so she kind of reminded me of my third foster mother. She had a blue-ribbon badge pinned to her chest that took me a moment to read: THIS MONSTER HAS BEEN RATED EXEMPLARY!

Tyson whimpered. "Sphinx."

I knew exactly why he was scared. When he was small, Tyson had been ruthlessly attacked by a Sphinx. He still had the scars. I quickly patted his arm before stepping forward.

The second I moved, however, the Sphinx roared, showing fangs in her otherwise human face. Bars came down on both tunnel exits, behind us and in front. We were trapped.

Immediately the monster's snarl turned into a brilliant smile. It was exceptionally disturbing to look at.

"Welcome, lucky contestants!" she announced. "Get ready to play…ANSWER THAT RIDDLE!"

Fake applause blasted from the ceiling, as if there were invisible loudspeakers. Spotlights swept across the room and reflected off the dais, throwing disco glitter over the skeletons on the floor.

"Fabulous prizes!" the Sphinx announced. "Pass the test, and you get to advance! Fail, and I get to eat you! Who will be our contestant?"

Luke grabbed my arm. "I've got this," he whispered to me. "I know what she's going to ask."

I didn't argue too hard. I didn't want Luke getting devoured by a monster, but I figured if the Sphinx was going to ask riddles, Luke was probably the best one of us to try.

He stepped forward to the contestant's podium, which had a skeleton in a school uniform hunched over it. She pushed the skeleton out of the way, and it clattered to the floor.

"Sorry," Luke told it.

"Welcome, Luke Castellan!" the monster cried, though Luke hadn't said his name. It seemed like every monster in existence knew who we were on sight, unfortunately. "Are you ready for your test?"

"Yes," Luke nodded confidently. "Ask your riddle."

"Twenty riddles, actually!" the Sphinx said gleefully.

"What? But back in the old days—"

"Oh, we've raised our standards! To pass, you must show proficiency in all twenty. Isn't that great?"

Applause switched on and off like somebody turning a faucet.

Luke glanced at me, a glint of worry in his sky-blue eyes. I gave him an encouraging nod, mentally preparing to fight. Twenty riddles right or death? This was so going to end in a battle.

"Okay," he said to the Sphinx, squaring his shoulders. "I'm ready."

A drumroll sounded from above. The Sphinx's eyes glittered with excitement. "What…is the capital of Bulgaria?"

Luke frowned. For a terrible moment, I thought he was stumped.

"Sofia," he said, "but—"

"Correct!" More canned applause. The Sphinx smiled so widely her fangs showed. "Please be sure to mark your answer clearly on your test sheet with a number 2 pencil."

"The fuck?" Luke looked as lost as I felt. Then a test booklet appeared on the podium in front of him, along with a sharpened pencil.

"Make sure you bubble each answer clearly and stay inside the circle," the Sphinx said. "If you have to erase, erase completely or the machine will not be able to read your answers."

"What machine?" Luke asked. My heart sank as I spotted the tell-tale crinkle in his brow that alerted me to the fact that he was getting frustrated.

'Don't do anything stupid,' I mouthed to him. He grimaced back at me, not answering.

The Sphinx pointed with her paw. Over by the spotlight was a bronze box with a bunch of gears and levers and a big Greek letter Ȇta on the side, the mark of Hephaestus.

"Now," said the Sphinx, "next question—"

"But what about the old riddle?" Luke cut in. "About the man. You know, baby in the morning, child in the afternoon and an old man at night. That's the one you used to ask."

"Exactly why we changed the test!" the Sphinx exclaimed. "You already knew the answer. Now second question, what is the square root of sixteen?"

"Four," Luke huffed, though I could tell it was taking everything in him not to complain. He wasn't arrogant enough to jeopardize our survival over this, thank the gods.

"Correct! Which U.S. president signed the Emancipation Proclamation?"

"Abraham Lincoln."

And so it went for three more questions, until the seventh one.

"List the elements of the first group in the periodic table," the Sphinx ordered. I knew instantly from Luke's rigid spine that he couldn't answer. He cast me a quick look, and I set my jaw and nodded grimly.

He looked back at her, stone-faced. "I don't know."

A smirk grew on its' face. "Why then, my dear," the monster said calmly. "If you won't pass, you fail. And since we can't allow any children to be held back, you'll be EATEN!"

The Sphinx bared her claws, which gleamed like stainless steel. She pounced at the podium.

"No!" Tyson charged. He hates it when people threaten his friends, but I was still surprised that he was being so brave, especially since he'd had such a bad experience with a Sphinx before.

He tackled the Sphinx in mid-air and they crashed sideways into a pile of bones. This gave Luke just enough to draw Halcyon. Tyson got up, his shirt clawed to shreds. The Sphinx growled, looking for an opening.

I drew Riptide and stepped in front of Luke.

"Go!" I called to him.

"I can fight!"

"No!" I yelled. "The Sphinx is after you! Let us get it."

As if to prove my point, the Sphinx knocked Tyson aside and tried to charge past me. Grover poked her in the eye with somebody's leg bone. She screeched in pain. Luke ran, moving so quickly he disappeared from sight. The Sphinx pounced right where he'd been standing, but came up with empty paws.

"No fair!" the Sphinx wailed. "Cheater!"

With Luke no longer available, the Sphinx turned on me. I raised my sword, but before I could strike, Tyson ripped the monster's grading machine out of the floor and threw it at the Sphinx's head, ruining her hair bun. It landed in pieces all around her.

"My grading machine!" she cried. "I can't be exemplary without my test scores!"

The bars lifted from the exits. We all dashed for the far tunnel. I could only hope that Luke was doing the same.

The Sphinx started to follow, but Grover raised his reed pipes and began to play. Suddenly the pencils remembered they used to be parts of trees. They collected around the Sphinx's paws, grew roots and branches, and began wrapping around the monster's legs. The Sphinx ripped through them, but it brought us just enough time.

Tyson pulled Grover into the tunnel, and the bars slammed shut behind us.

I nearly panicked for a minute before I registered Luke, floating down from the ceiling.

"Keep moving!" he urged me, grabbing my hand and tugging me along, though I didn't need any help.

We ran through the dark tunnels, listening to the roar of the Sphinx behind us as she complained about all the tests she would have to grade by hand.


	11. I Get Firey Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana finally loses control

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. So here it is, Ana's breakdown that you've all been waiting for. I hope you're happy with how I did it. (BTW: warning for violence and mentions of torture. Not very graphic I think, but I probably should've added the warning earlier.)**

**Chapter Eleven**

**I Get Firey Mad**

I thought we'd lost the spider until Tyson heard a faint pinging sound. We made a few turns, backtracked a few times, and eventually found the spider banging its' tiny head on a metal door.

The door looked like one of those old-fashioned submarine hatches—oval, with metal rivets around the edges and a wheel for a doorknob. Where the portal should've been was a big brass plaque, green with age, with a Greek Ȇta inscribed in the middle.

We all looked at each other.

"Ready to meet Hephaestus?" Grover asked nervously.

"No," I admitted. I couldn't remember whether or not Hephaestus had voted for me to live or not. I had been a bit busy trying to hold myself together and keep from collapsing to actually pay attention to what had been going on.

"Yes!" Tyson said gleefully, and he turned the wheel.

As soon as the door opened, the spider scuttled inside with Tyson right behind it. The rest of us followed, not quite as anxious.

The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic's garage, with several hydraulic lifts. Some had cars on them, but others had stranger things: a bronze hippalektryon with its' horse head off and a bunch of wires hanging out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed to be hooked up to a battery charger, and a Greek war chariot made entirely of flames.

Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. Tools hung along the walls. Each had its own outline on a Peg-Board, but nothing seemed to be in the right place. The hammer was over the screwdriver place. The staple gun was where the hacksaw was supposed to go.

Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a '98 Toyota Corolla, a pair of legs stuck out—the lower half of a huge man in grubby grey pants and shoes even bigger than Tyson's. One leg was in a metal brace. I had never understood how Hephaestus could be crippled when he was a god, but I didn't really care, either.

The spider scuttled straight under the car, and the sounds of banging stopped.

"Well, well," a deep voice boomed from under the Corolla. "What have we here?"

The mechanic pushed out on a back trolley and sat up. His appearance made me hide a gulp. I generally didn't care about appearances, hard to when everyone in Camp had some scars. But  _yeesh_ , this was rough.

I guess he'd cleaned up when I saw him on Olympus, or used magic to make his form seem a little less hideous. Here in his own workshop, he apparently didn't care how he looked. He wore a jumpsuit smeared with oil and grime. Hephaestus, was embroidered over the chest pocket in Ancient Greek. His leg creaked and clicked in its' metal brace as he stood, and his left shoulder was lower than his right, so he seemed to be leaning even when he was standing up straight. His head was misshapen and bulging. He wore a permanent scowl. His black beard smoked and hissed. Every once in a while a small wildfire would erupt in his whiskers then die out. His hands were the size of catcher's mitts, but he handled the spider with amazing skill. He disassembled it in two seconds, then put it back together.

"There," he muttered to himself. "Much better."

The spider did a happy flip in his palm, shot a metallic web at the ceiling, and went swinging away.

Hephaestus glowered up at us. "I didn't make you, did I?"

I blinked and exchanged an uncertain look with Luke. "Uh," I said, "no, sir."

"Good," the god grumbled. "Shoddy workmanship."

I felt like I should be offended, but gods thought everything except themselves were lesser in some way.

He studied Luke and me. "Half-bloods," he grunted. "Could be automatons, of course, but probably not."

"We're demigod, sir," I confirmed. Luke had stiffened at the mention of automatons, and I didn't blame him. Automatons and demigods didn't tend to mix well, and Luke had a scar across his belly to prove it.

Hephaestus hummed in acknowledgement as he looked at Grover and frowned. "Satyr." Then he looked at Tyson, and his eyes twinkled. "Well, a Cyclops. Good, good. What are you doing traveling with this lot?"

"Uh…" said Tyson, staring in wonder at the god.

"Yes, well said," Hephaestus agreed. "So, there'd better be a good reason you're disturbing me. The suspension on this Corolla is no small matter, you know."

"Sir," I said hesitantly, "we're looking for Daedalus. We thought—"

"Daedalus?" the god roared. "You want that old scoundrel? You dare to seek him out!" His beard burst into flames and his black eyes glowed.

"Uh, yes, sir, please," Luke nodded. I just wished the whole thing was over. Once this quest was done, I was never, ever, setting foot in any sort of cave, maze, or even a basement, ever again. I could hardly breathe from the stress and claustrophobia pressing in on me.

"Humph. You're wasting your time." He frowned at something on his worktable and limped over to it. He picked up a lump of springs and metal plates and tinkered with them. In a few seconds he was holding a bronze and silver falcon. It spread its' metal wings, blinked its' obsidian eyes, and flew around the room.

Tyson laughed and clapped his hands. The bird landed on Tyson's shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately.

Hephaestus regarded him. The god's scowl didn't change, but I thought I saw a kinder twinkle in his eyes. "I sense you have something to tell me, Cyclops."

Tyson's smile faded. "Y-yes, lord. We met a Hundred-Handed One."

Hephaestus nodded, looking unsurprised. "Briaries?"

"Yes. He—he was scared. He would not help us."

"And that bothered you."

"Yes!" Tyson's voice wavered. "Briaries should be strong! He is older and greater than Cyclopes. But he ran away."

Hephaestus grunted. "There was a time I admired the Hundred-Handed Ones. Back in the days of the first war. But people, monsters, even gods change, young Cyclops. You can't trust 'em. Look at my loving mother, Hera. You met her, didn't you? She'll smile to your face and talk about how important family is, eh? Didn't stop her from pitching me off Mount Olympus when she saw my ugly face."

"But I thought Zeus did that to you," I said, cocking my head. Did that mean I had to be less critical of the sky god? Nah, I decided mentally. He might not have tossed his son off a mountain, but he'd done a hell of a lot of other shit.

Hephaestus cleared his throat and spat into a bronze spittoon. He snapped his fingers, and the robotic falcon flew back to the worktable.

"Mother likes telling that version of the story," he grumbled. "Makes her seem more likeable, doesn't it? Blaming it all on my dad. The truth is, my mother likes families, but she likes a certain kind of family. Perfect families. She took one look at me and…well, I don't fit the image, do I?"

He pulled a feather from the falcon's back, and the whole automaton fell apart.

"Believe me, young Cyclops," Hephaestus said, "you can't trust others. All you can trust is the work of your own hands."

It seemed like a pretty lonely way to live. Besides, I would never betray Tyson. I'd rather die than betray my family and friends.

Plus, I didn't exactly trust the work of Hephaestus. One time in Denver, his mechanical snakes had almost killed Luke and me, back on my first quest. And last year, it had been a defective Talos statue that cost Bianca her life—another one of Hephaestus' little projects.

He focused on me and narrowed his eyes, as if he were reading my thoughts. "Oh, this one doesn't like me," he mused. "No worries, I'm used to that. What would you ask of me, little demigod?"

"It's machines that I don't like," I corrected him. "And as for what we need, we told you already. We need to find Daedalus. The Titan Army is trying to find a way to navigate the Labyrinth so they can invade our camp. If we don't get to Daedalus first—"

"And I told you, girl. Looking for Daedalus is a waste of time. He won't help you."

"Why not?"

Hephaestus shrugged. "Some of us get thrown off mountainsides. Some of us…the way we learn not to trust people is more painful. Ask me for gold. Or a flaming sword. Or a magical steed. These I can grant you easily. But a way to Daedalus? That's an expensive favour."

"You know where he is, then," Luke pressed.

"It isn't wise to go looking, boy."

"I'm a son of Hermes, not Athena," Luke stated flatly. "Doing the wise thing isn't exactly our forte."

Doing the hard thing, on the other hand, was, I added mentally.

Hephaestus sighed. "All right, half-blood. I can tell you what you want to know. But there is a price. I need a favour done."

Luke and I tensed, but I nodded reluctantly. Anything to save Camp. "What is it?"

Hephaestus actually laughed—a booming sound like a huge bellows stoking a fire. "You heroes," he chuckled, "always making rash promises. How refreshing!"

He pressed a button on his workbench, and metal shutters opened along the wall. It was either a huge window or a big-screen TV, I couldn't tell which. We were looking at a grey mountain ringed in forests. It must've been a volcano, because smoke rose from its' crest.

"One of my forges," Hephaestus explained. "I have many, but that used to be my favourite."

"That's Mount St. Helens," Grover informed us. "Great forests around there."

"You've been there?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Looking for…you know, Pan."

"Wait," Luke cut in, looking at Hephaestus. "You said it used to be your favourite. What happened?"

Hephaestus scratched his smouldering beard. "Well, that's where the monster Typhon is trapped, you know. Used to be under Mount Etna, but when we moved to America, his force got pinned under Mount St. Helens instead. Great source of fire, but a bit dangerous. There's always a chance he will escape. Lots of eruptions these days, smouldering all the time. He's restless with the Titan rebellion."

"What do you want us to do?" I asked warily. Wasn't Typhon the 'Father of Monsters', so powerful that even the gods had fled when he'd attacked Olympus back in Ancient times? My temples pulsed with pain as Luke brushed his hand against mine in comfort.

"Lately I have sensed intruders in my mountain," Hephaestus told us. "Someone or something is using my forges. When I go there, it is empty, but I can tell it is being used. They sense me coming, and they disappear. I send my automatons to investigate, but they do not return. Something…ancient is there. Evil. I want to know who dares to invade my territory, and if they mean to loose Typhon."

"You want us to find out who it is," I stated resignedly. Maybe it was a good thing that Nico had refused to come with us. This was going to be dangerous.

"Aye," Hephaestus confirmed. "Go there. They may not sense you coming. You are not gods."

"How kind of you to notice," I muttered. Luke squeezed my wrist in warning. Right, no provoking the all-powerful rulers of the West if you want to live. Right.

"Go and find out what you can," Hephaestus said. "Report back to me, and I will tell you what you need to know about Daedalus."

"All right," Luke agreed. "How do we get there?"

Hephaestus clapped his hands. The spider came swinging down from the rafters and landed at my feet.

"My creation will show you the way," Hephaestus said. "It is not far through the Labyrinth. And try to stay alive, will you? Humans are much more fragile than automatons."

***  
We were doing okay until we hit the tree roots. The spider raced along and we were keeping up, but then we spotted a tunnel off to the side that was dug from raw earth, and wrapped in thick roots. Grover stopped dead in his tracks.

"What is it?" I said.

He didn't move. He stared open-mouthed into the dark tunnel. His curly hair rustled in the breeze.

"Come on!" Luke urged. "We have to keep moving."

"This is the way," Grover muttered in awe. "This is it."

"What way?" I asked. "You mean…to Pan?"

Grover looked at Tyson. "Don't you smell it?"

"Dirt," Tyson stated. "And plants."

"Yes! This is the way. I'm sure of it!"

Up ahead, the spider was getting farther down the stone corridor. A few more seconds and we'd lose it.

"We'll come back," Luke promised. "On our way back to Hephaestus."

"The tunnel will be gone by then," Grover rebutted. "I have to follow it. A door like this won't stay open!"

"But we can't," Luke insisted. "The forges!"

Grover looked at him sadly. "I have to, Luke. Don't you understand?"

He looked desperate, but I could see the acceptance growing in his expression. The spider was almost out of sight. I thought about my conversation with Grover last night, and I knew what we had to do.

"We'll split up," I declared grimly. It was the only solution that I could think of.

"No!" Luke exclaimed immediately. "That's way too dangerous. How will we find each other again? And Grover can't go alone."

Tyson put his hand on Grover's shoulder. "I—I will go with him."

I felt my eyes go wide in surprise. "Tyson, are you sure?"

The big guy nodded. "Goat boy needs help. We will find the god person. I am not like Hephaestus. I trust friends."

Grover took a deep breath. "Ana, we'll find each other again. We've still got the empathy link. I just…have to."

I understood, and I sure as Tartarus didn't blame him. This was his life's goal. If he didn't find Pan on this journey, the council would never give him another chance.

"I hope you're right," I replied seriously.

"I know I am." I'd never heard him sound so confident about anything, except maybe that cheese enchiladas were better than chicken enchiladas.

"Be careful," I told him. Then I looked at Tyson. He gulped back a sob and gave me a hug that just about squeezed my eyes out of their sockets. Then he and Grover disappeared through the tunnel of tree roots and were lost in the darkness.

Luke and I didn't say another word, just started sprinting to catch up to the spider.

***  
It wasn't long before the tunnel started to get hot.

The stone walls glowed. The air felt as if we were walking through an oven. The tunnel sloped down and I could hear a loud roar, like a river of metal. The spider skittered along, with Luke and I right behind it.

After a while, the roaring got louder. After another half mile or so, we emerged in a cavern the size of a Super Bowl stadium. Our spider escort stopped and curled into a ball. We had arrived at the forge of Hephaestus.

Luke and I exchanged tense looks, then peeked out to scan the area. There was no floor, just bubbling lava hundreds of feet below. We stood on a rock ridge that circled the cavern. A network of metal bridges spanned across it. At the centre was a huge platform with all sorts of machines, cauldrons, forges, and the largest anvil I'd ever seen—a block of iron the size of a house. Creatures moved around the platform—several strange, dark shapes, but they were too far away to make out details.

Luke picked up the metal spider and slipped it into her pocket. "I'll go check the place out," he whispered to me. "Wait here."

"Hold it!" I began to snap, but before I could argue, he had already slipped off, his Hermes-inherited superspeed turning him into an invisible blur.

I didn't dare call after him, but I didn't like the idea of him approaching the forge on his own. His superspeed was new, difficult to use, and drained him quickly. He would be in no shape to fight after using it. Not to mention, if those things out there could sense a god coming, would Luke be safe?

I looked back at the Labyrinth tunnel. I missed Grover and Tyson already. I hated being alone, and I could feel my battle-energy coursing through me, urging me to move. Finally, I decided I couldn't stay put. I crept along the outer rim of the lava lake, hoping I could get a better angle to see what was happening in the middle.

The heat was horrible. Geryon's ranch had been a winter wonderland compared to this. It was a stark contrast to my capture, when I'd been so cold, two of my toes had developed frostbite, and the healers had been worried they might need to be amputated. Thankfully for my ability to fight, they'd managed to save them, though I'd spent three weeks on crutches.

In no time I was drenched with sweat. My eyes stung from the smoke. I moved along, trying to keep away from the edge, until I found my way blocked by a cart on metal wheels, like the kind they sue in mine shafts. I lifted up the tarp and found it was half full of scrap metal. I was about to squeeze my way around it when I heard voices from up ahead, probably from a side tunnel.

"Bring it in?" one asked.

"Yeah," another said. "Movie's just about done."

I bit back a curse, scanning my surroundings frantically. I didn't have time to back up. There was nowhere to hide except…the cart. I scrambled inside and pulled the tarp over me, hoping no one had seen me. I pulled my hairpin from my hair and clutched it tight, just in case I had to fight. The feel of my knives on my hips were a weak comfort.

The cart lurched forward.

"Oi," a gruff voice complained. "Thing weighs a ton."

"It's celestial bronze," the other scoffed. "What did you expect?"

I got pulled along. We turned a corner, and from the sound of the wheels echoing against the walls I guessed we had passed down a tunnel and into a smaller room. Hopefully I was not about to be dumped into a smelting pot. If they started to tip me over, I'd have to fight my way out quick. I heard lots of talking, chattering voices that didn't sound human—somewhere between a seal's bark and a dog's growl. There were other sounds too—like an old-fashioned film projector and a tinny voice narrating.

"Just set it in the back," a new voice ordered from across the room. "Now, younglings, please attend to the film. There will be time for questions afterward."

The voices quieted down, and I could hear the film start.

_As a young sea demon matures,_ the narrator said,  _changes happen in the monster's body. You may notice your fangs getting longer and you may have a sudden desire to devour human beings. These changes are perfectly normal and happen to all young monsters._

Excited snarling filled the room. The teacher—I guess it must have been a teacher—told the younglings to be quiet, and the film continued. I didn't understand most of it, and I didn't dare look. The film kept talking about growth spurts and acne problems caused by working in the forges, and proper flipper hygiene, and finally it was over.

Who'd've known that monsters went to school? I suppose their most important class was 'How to Murder a Demigod With Proper Pain 101'. I scowled bitterly at the thought.

"Now, younglings," the instructor said, "what is the proper name of our kind?"

"Sea demons!" one of them barked.

"No. Anyone else?"

"Telekhines!" another monster growled. I scanned my mind for any knowledge of that species, but I couldn't recognize it. Meaning, of course, that I didn't know their weaknesses and skills. Bad. Very bad.

"Very good," the instructor said. "And why are we here?"

"Revenge!" several shouted.

"Yes, yes, but why?"

"Zeus is evil!" one monster said. "He cast us into Tartarus just because we used magic!"

"Indeed," the instructor agreed. "After we made so many of the gods' finest weapons. The trident of Poseidon, for one. And of course—we made the greatest weapon of the Titans! Nevertheless, Zeus cast us away and relied on those fumbling Cyclopes. That is why we are taking over the forges of the usurper Hephaestus. And soon we will control the undersea furnaces, our ancestral home!"

I clutched my pin-sword. These snarling things had created Poseidon's trident? What were they talking about? I'd always thought that the Cyclopes had done that, along with Zeus' Master Bolt and Hades' Helm of Darkness.

"And so, younglings," the instructor continued, "who do we serve?"

"Kronos!" they shouted.

"And when you grow to be big telekhines, will you make weapons for the army?"

"Yes!"

"Excellent. Now, we've brought in some scraps for you to practice with. Let's see how ingenious you are."

There was a rush of movement and excited voices coming toward the cart. I got ready to summon Anaklusmos. The tarp was thrown back. I jumped up, my bronze sword springing to life in my hands, and found myself facing a bunch of…dogs.

Well, their faces were dogs, anyway, with black snouts, brown eyes, and pointy ears. Their bodies were sleek and black like sea mammals, with stubby legs that were half flipper, half foot, and humanlike hands with sharp claws. If you blended together a kid, a Doberman pinscher, and a sea lion, you'd get something like what I was looking at.

"A demigod!" one snarled.

"Eat it!" yelled another.

But that's as far as they got before I slashed a wide arc with my sword and vaporized the entire front row of monsters.

"Back off!" I yelled at the rest, trying to sound fierce. Behind them stood their instructor—a six-foot-tall telekhine with Doberman fangs snarling at me. I did my best to stare him down.

"New lesson, class," I announced. "Most monsters will vaporize when sliced with a celestial bronze sword. This change is perfectly normal, and will happen to you right now if you don't BACK OFF!"

To my surprise, it worked. The monsters backed up, but there were at least twenty of them. My fear factor wasn't going to last long.

I jumped out of the cart, yelled, "CLASS DISMISSED!" and ran for the exit.

The monsters charged after me, barking and growling. I hoped they couldn't run very fast with those stubby little legs and flippers, but they waddled along pretty well. Thank the gods there was a door in the tunnel leading out to the main cavern. I slammed it shut and turned the wheel handle to lock it, but I doubted it would keep them long.

I didn't know what to do. Luke was out here somewhere, maybe in his own fight. Our chance for a subtle reconnaissance mission had been blown by impetuousness. I ran toward the platform at the centre of the lava lake.

"Luke!" I whisper-yelled.

"Shhh!" a hand clamped over my mouth and wrestled me down behind a big bronze cauldron. "You want to get us killed?"

I turned my head and felt my heart start beating again as I met Luke's eyes. His face streaked with ash and grime. "Ariel, the fuck happened?"

"We're going to have company!" I explained quickly about the monster orientation class. His eyes widened.

"So that's what they are," he said. "Telekhines. σκατά. And they're making…Well, look."

We peeked over the cauldron. In the centre of the platform stood four sea demons, but these were fully grown, at least eight feet tall. Their black skin glistened in the firelight as they worked, sparks flying as they took turns hammering on a long piece of glowing hot metal.

"The blade is almost complete," one said. "It needs another cooling in blood to fuse the metals."

"Aye," a second responded. "It shall be even sharper than before."

"What is that?" I whispered. The bit about 'cooling in blood' made me queasy and even more desperate to fight something.

Luke shrugged. "I'm no son of Hephaestus. They keep talking about fusing metals. I wonder—"

"They were talking about the greatest Titan weapon," I whispered to him. "And they…they said they made my father's trident."

"The telekhines betrayed the gods," Luke explained to me softly. Worry surged through me as I noticed the way he was trembling slightly from exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes. "They were supposed to have been practicing dark magic. I don't know what, exactly, but Zeus banished them to Tartarus." Unspoken was that the fact that could very well have been a lie made by the gods for whatever reason.

"With Kronos," I added instead.

He nodded. "We have to get out—"

No sooner had he said that than the door to the classroom exploded and young telekhines came pouring out. They stumbled over each other, trying to figure out which way to charge.

I hastily turned, pulled out a canteen of nectar and passed it to him. He took a hasty sip, colour flooding back into his cheeks.

"Use your superspeed to get back to the tunnel," I ordered as he drank. "Get out! Now!"

"What?" Luke snarled, looking furious. "No way! I'm not leaving you."

"I've got a plan. I'll distract them. You can use the metal spider—maybe it'll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what's going on."

"But you'll be killed!"

"I'll be fine. Besides, we've got no choice."

Luke looked furious, but I could see reluctant acceptance in his brilliant blue eyes. He knew the importance of warning Hephaestus.

A sudden daring surged through me, and I grabbed him, pulling his lips down to press my own against him. He grasped my hips, pulling me so close I felt like we were one person. For a single moment, I felt safe and peaceful. Then we separated, and the feeling was gone. Only grim determination and battle-energy remained in its' place.

"Be careful, Ariel." He turned ran, seeming almost to vanish into thin air from his speed.

A second later, I was discovered.

"There!" a telekhine yelled. The entire class of telekhines charged across the bridge toward me. I ran for the middle of the platform, surprising the four elder sea demons so much they dropped the red-hot blade and I managed to cut one down. Then the blade distracted me. It was about six feet long and curved like a crescent moon. Evil radiated from it even stronger than Backbiter. I'd seen a lot of terrifying things, but this unfinished whatever-it-was scared me worse.

The elder demons got over their surprise quickly. There were four ramps leading off the platform, and before I could dash in any direction, each of them had covered an exit. Without knowledge of their strengths and weaknesses, I was wary of attacking any of them.

The tallest one snarled. "What do we have here? A child of Poseidon?"

"Yes," another growled. "I can smell the sea in her blood."

I raised Anaklusmos. My heart was pounding and my palms were sweating. The heat was reminding me of last winter, when Atlas had come to torment me, and used Greek fire to do so.

"Strike down one of us, demigod," the third demon said, "and the rest of us shall tear you to shreds. Your father betrayed us. He took our gift and said nothing as we were cast into the pit. We will see him sliced to pieces. He and all the other Olympians."

I wished I had a plan. I wished I hadn't been lying to Luke. I'd wanted him to get out safely, both for himself and to warn Hephaestus, and I hoped he'd been sensible enough to do it.

But now it was dawning on me that this might be the place I would die. No prophecies for me. I would get overrun in the heart of a volcano by a pack of dog-faced sea-lion people. The young telekhines were at the platform now, too, snarling and waiting to see how their four elders would deal with me.

I felt something burning against the side of my leg. The ice whistle in my pocket was getting colder. If I ever needed help, now was the time. But I hesitated. I didn't trust Quintus' gift.

Before I could make up my mind, the tallest telekhine cackled. "Let us see how strong she is," he suggested maliciously. "Let us see how long it takes her to burn!"

He scooped some lava out of the nearest furnace. It set his fingers ablaze, but this didn't seem to bother him at all. The other elder telekhines did the same. The first one threw a glop of molten rock at me and set my jeans on fire. Two more splattered across my chest. I dropped my sword in sheer terror and swatted at my clothes. Fire was engulfing me. Strangely, it felt only warm at first, but it was getting hotter by the instant.

My vision was blurring, the faces of the telekhines twisting into Atlas'. Their mocking voices became his, demanding that I betray Olympus and (more importantly) my family at Camp Half-Blood. I couldn't breathe. I was choking on the fire burning me.

"No," I mumbled hazily, barely understanding where I was and what was going on. Of all the times for my PTSD to kick in.

"Your father's nature protects you," one said. Of course, I'd known that already. "Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, youngling. Not impossible." I'd known that too.

They threw more lava at me, the sight mixing with the memory of Atlas' gripping my wrist and crushing it viciously to hold me in place as he jammed a stick of green flames into my torso and while I screamed. My whole body was on fire. The pain was doubled by the memory. I was being consumed. I crumpled to the metal floor, sobbing desperately and heard the sea demon children howling in delight.

I heard a voice be cut off and realized that I'd managed to strike one of them with a knife. The laughs turned to anger, and Atlas' expression grew enraged at my stubborn refusal to yield. I was going to die, I knew it. Then I remembered the voice of the river naiad at the ranch: The water is within me. I wasn't chained with Celestial Bronze to suppress my powers.

I needed the sea. I felt a tugging sensation in my gut, but I had nothing around to help me. Not a faucet or a river. Not even a petrified seashell this time. My mind was wild and unfocused. I could barely think enough to remember that Atlas' presence was a figment of my memory, not real. Controlling anything could be as dangerous to myself as the telekhines. I might end up killing myself for them.

I had no choice. I called to the sea. I reached inside myself and remembered the waves and the currents, the endless power of the ocean. And then I let it all loose in one horrible scream of rage and grief at what I'd gone through, was  _still_  going through.

Afterward, I could never describe what happened. An explosion, a tidal wave, a whirlwind of power simultaneously catching me up and blasting me downward into the lava. Fire and water collided, superheated steam, and I shot upward from the heart of the volcano in a huge explosion, just one piece of flotsam thrown free by a million pounds of pressure. The last thing I remember before losing conscious was flying, flying so high Zeus would never have forgiven me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire and water streaming from me. I was a comet hurtling toward the earth.


	12. La Isla Bonita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana wakes up on an island and meets a new friend.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. I hope that everybody enjoys my version of Ana's trip to Ogygia. Chapter title is a reference to Madonna's song which I was coincidentally listening to while writing some of this.**

**Chapter Twelve**

**La Isla Bonita**

I woke up feeling like I was still on fire. My skin stung. My throat felt as dry as sand. It was as bad as last winter, except back then I'd at least known what the heck was going on. Right now, however, I was lost.

I saw blue sky and trees above me. I heard a fountain gurgling, and smelled juniper and cedar and a bunch of other sweet-scented plants. I heard waves, too, gently lapping on a rocky shore. I wondered briefly if I was dead, but I dismissed the thought quickly. I'd been to the Land of the Dead, and there was no blue sky.

I tried to sit up. My muscles felt like they were melting.

"Stay still," a girl's voice instructed me gently. "You're too weak to rise."

She laid a cool cloth across my forehead. A bronze spoon hovered over me and liquid was dribbled into my mouth. The drink soothed my throat and left a warm chocolaty aftertaste. Nectar. Then the girl's face appeared above me.

She had almond eyes and caramel-colour hair braided over one shoulder. She looked like she was around fifteen or sixteen. It was hard to tell, and anyway, if she was an immortal, she could easily be several millennia. She had one of those faces that just seemed timeless. She began singing, and my pain dissolved. She was working magic. I could feel her music sinking into my skin, healing and repairing my brain and injuries.

"Who?" I croaked.

"Shhh," she cooed. "Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. You are safe. I am Calypso."

***  
The next time I woke up I was in a cave, but as far as caves go, I'd been in a lot worse.

The ceiling glittered with different-colour crystal formations— white and purple and green, like I was inside one of those cut geodes you see in souvenir shops. I was lying on a comfortable bed with feather pillows and cotton sheets. The cave was divided into sections by white silk curtains. Against one wall stood a large loom and a harp. Against the other wall were shelves neatly stacked with jars of fruit preserves. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling: rosemary, thyme, and a bunch of other stuff that I couldn't recognize save for the fact that they hung in the Demeter cabin too.

There was a fireplace built into the cave wall, and a pot bubbling over the flames. It smelled great, like beef stew.

I sat up, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my head. I looked at my arms, expecting them to be hideously scarred, but they seemed fine. A little pinker than usual, but not bad.

I was wearing a white cotton nightdress with a pocket sewn onto it. It was flimsy and completely unsuited to fighting. In other words, not my style at all. My feet were bare. In a moment of panic, I wondered what happened to Anaklusmos, but I felt my hair and there was my pin, right where it always reappeared.

Not only that but the Stygian ice dog whistle was back in my pocket, too. Somehow it had followed me. And that didn't exactly reassure me.

With difficulty, I stood. The stone floor was freezing under my feet. I turned and found myself staring into a polished bronze mirror.

"Holy Poseidon," I muttered. I looked awful.

My hair was a rat's nest. It had been singed badly, shortening it from my hips to my shoulders. It made my heart sting. I hadn't had my hair this short in years. "A woman's hair is her crown in glory" I recalled Mom telling me, while she drew a brush through my brunette waves. My hair was the only vanity I allowed myself, and it stung to see it look so awful. Blinking rapidly, I forced my attention away to examine the rest of me. Not that it was any better.

I looked as if I'd lost twenty pounds that I couldn't afford to lose. I'd always been thin, but this was terrible. My face was ghostly pale with dark shadows underneath my eyes, emphasizing my gauntness. I looked almost as bad as last winter, and I hadn't known that was possible.

I turned away from the mirror. The cave entrance was to my left. I headed toward the daylight, limping and bent over slightly due to my aching legs and torso.

The cave opened onto a green meadow. On the left was a grove of cedar trees and on the right a huge flower garden. Four fountains gurgled in the meadow, each shooting water from the pipes of stone satyrs. Straight ahead, the grass sloped down to a rocky beach. The waves of a lake lapped against the stones. I could tell it was a lake because…well, I just could. Fresh water. Not salt. The sun sparkled on the water, and the sky was pure blue. It seemed like a paradise, which immediately made me wary. You deal with mythological stuff for a few years, you learn that paradises are usually places where you get killed.

The girl with the braided caramel hair, the one who'd called herself Calypso, was standing at the beach, talking to someone. I couldn't see him very well in the shimmer from the sunlight off the water, but they appeared to be arguing.

I tried to remember what I knew about Calypso from the old myths. I'd heard the name before, but…I couldn't remember. Was she a monster? Did she trap heroes and kill them? But if she was evil, why was I still alive? She was a witch at the least. Only heavy magical intervention could've saved me, given I'd been at the epicentre of a volcanic eruption, and I hadn't had many good encounters with witches, save Lou and some of her siblings. The not knowing was, as usual, the worst part.

I walked toward her slowly, still sore and trying to hide it. If it came to a fight, I'd be at a heavy disadvantage. When the grass changed to gravel, I looked down to keep my balance, and when I looked up again, the girl was alone. She wore a white sleeveless Greek dress with a low circular neckline trimmed in gold. She brushed at her eyes like she'd been crying. I softened, feeling bad for her. Though, of course, that might've been her goal.

"Well," she said, trying for a smile, "the sleeper finally wakes."

"Who were you talking to?" I asked. What if she was working with the Titans, and intended to collect on the bounty they'd apparently put on my head.

"Oh…just a messenger," she replied vaguely. "How do you feel?"

"How long have I been out?"

"Time," Calypso mused. "Time is always difficult here. I honestly don't know, Ana."

"You know my name?"

"You talk in your sleep."

I blushed. "Yeah. I've been…uh, told that before."

"Yes. Who is Luke?"

"Oh, uh. A friend. We were together when—wait, how did I get here? Where am I?"

Calypso reached up and ran her fingers through my mangled hair. I stepped back nervously. I was abruptly conscious of the lack of knives at my hips. If I had to reach for my sword, she'd spot my movements immediately.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I've just grown used to caring for you. as to how you got here, you fell from the sky. You landed in the water, just there." She pointed across the beach. "I do not know how you survived. The water seemed to cushion your fall. As to where you are, you are in Ogygia."

She pronounced it like oh-jee-jee-ah.

I crinkled my eyebrow in thought. "I've heard the name," I hummed. "But I can't place it." And my geography had always been awful, anyway.

"Ogygia is my island," Calypso explained gently. "It exists by itself, anywhere and nowhere. You can heal here in safety. Never fear."

"But my friends—"

"Luke," she said. "And Grover and Tyson?"

"Yes!" I confirmed. "I have to get back to them. They're in danger."

She took my hand, and I didn't back away this time. "Rest first. You are no good to your friends until you heal."

As soon as she said it, I realized how tired I was. "You're not working with the Titans, are you?"

She looked stricken for a second, and I got the feeling I'd hit a sore spot. It didn't exactly reassure me.

"No," she stated quietly after a moment. "I am not working with the Titans. I swear it on the Styx."

Thunder boomed, and I felt a small bit of tension ease. That was something, at least.

"Now rest," Calypso urged me. "Your eyes are already closing."

She was right. My knees buckled, and I would've landed face-first in the gravel if Calypso hadn't caught me. Her hair smelled like cinnamon. She was very strong, or maybe I was just really weak and thin. She walked me back to a cushioned bench by the fountain and helped me lie down.

"Rest," she ordered. And I fell asleep to the sound of the fountains and the smell of cinnamon and juniper.

***  
The next time I woke it was night, but I wasn't sure if it was the same night or many nights later. I was in the bed in the cave, but I rose and wrapped a robe around myself and padded outside. The stars were brilliant—thousands of them, like you only see way out in the country, away from the city's pollution. I could make out all the constellations Silena had taught me: Capricorn, Pegasus, Sagittarius. And there, near the southern horizon, was a new constellation: the Huntress, a tribute to Zoe Nightshade, who had died on the quest last winter.

"Ana, what do you see?"

I looked over at Calypso, absently rolling Anaklusmos (in its' hairpin form) through my palms. I had never considered myself to be particularly pretty, but Calypso was probably as beautiful, if not more, than Aphrodite herself. With myself in such an awful state, it almost made me feel jealous. But Calypso was too nice for me to really resent her beauty.

I pointed at the Huntress. "That constellation was formed by the spirit of Zoe Nightshade," I told her. "She was killed by her father, the Titan Atlas, last winter. Another huntress, Bianca di'Angelo, also died on the same quest."

Calypso studied me, a frown on her face. "You feel guilty for their deaths?"

I looked away towards the sea, clenching my fists. "The quest was to save me and Artemis," I croaked out. "We were captured." I cut off, feeling my breathing grow shallow, like it did every time I thought about the events of the previous December.

She reached out and pressed a hand in between my shoulder-blades. "Would you like to help me plant?" she offered gently.

I didn't have any green thumbs, but I nodded anyway. Strangely, I didn't feel as depressed as I usually did. It was like, on Ogygia, I was separate from the ongoing problems of the West. It didn't feel like I was going mad from the stress. I could  _breathe_  here. I wasn't constantly on my guard, looking for the next attack. I hadn't felt so relaxed in years. Not since my mother's death. Gods, probably not since before my mom married that abusive sonovabitch, may he burn in the Fields of Punishment.

She handed me a plant, which had a clump of dirt and roots at the base. The flowers glowed as I held them. Calypso picked up her gardening spade and directed me to the edge of the garden, where she began to dig.

"That's moonlace," Calypso explained. "It can only be planted at night."

I watched the silvery light flicker around the petals. "What does it do?"

"Do?" Calypso mused. "It doesn't really do anything, I suppose. It lives, it gives light, it provides beauty. Does it have to do anything else?"

"I guess not," I admitted. I wasn't used to things being around just to 'give light' and 'provide beauty'. At Camp, everything was about practicality. Even the Aphrodite kids, despite outward appearances, had a reason for everything they kept around. I didn't get why Chanel No. 9 repulsed monsters, but I'd seen for myself that it worked.

Calypso took the plant, planted the moonlace and stepped back, surveying her work. "I love my garden."

"It's amazing," I agreed. I mean, I wasn't exactly a gardening type, but Calypso had arbours covered with six different colours of roses, lattices filled with honeysuckle, rows of grapevines bursting with red and purple grapes that would've made Dionysus sit up and beg.

"Before she died my mom always wanted a garden," I revealed. For once, thinking about Mom didn't hurt. Maybe I was so jaded that the ache had become distant. Time heals all wounds, the old proverb said. I added my own bit: and replaces it with other ones instead.

"Why did she not plant one?"

"Well, we lived in an apartment in Manhattan. We had a cabin on Montauk beach as well, but we weren't there all the time, and flowers don't really grow in sand."

"Manhattan? Apartment?"

I stared at her. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"I fear not. I haven't left Ogygia in…a long time."

"Well, Manhattan's a big city, with not much gardening space."

Calypso frowned. "That is sad. Hermes visits from time to time. He tells me the world outside has changed greatly. I did not realize it had changed so much you cannot have gardens."

"Why haven't you left your island?"

She looked down. "It is my punishment."

"Why? What did you do?"

"I? Nothing. But I'm afraid my father did a great deal. His name is Atlas."

The name sent a shiver down my back. Atlas had been the worst foe I'd ever faced. I hated him more than anyone else. I would never have thought that he and Calypso could possibly be related. (At least, not any more than everyone in the pantheon was related to each other.)

"Still," I began hesitantly. "it's not fair to punish you for what your father's done. You're a good person Calypso. You shouldn't be made to suffer for his actions."

Of course, whether or not you were involved in your parent's crimes had never mattered to the gods. Hadn't I been punished repeatedly for my father breaking his Oath? The same for Thalia. Silena had a scar on her hip from when a nymph cursed by Aphrodite for whatever reason had tried to kill her. No, in the world of the Greek Pantheon, children always seemed to suffer for their parents' actions.

Calypso studied me for a long time. Her eyes were sad.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Are—are you healed yet, my friend? Do you think that you will be ready to leave soon?"

"What?" I blinked. "I don't know." I moved my legs. They were still stiff. I was already getting dizzy from standing up so long. "Do you want me to go?" I tried to hide the hurt I felt at the thought.

"I…" Her voice broke. "I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

She ran off toward the beach. I was too confused to do anything but watch until she disappeared in the dark.

***  
I don't know exactly how much time passed. Like Calypso said, it was hard to keep track on the island. I knew that I should be leaving. At the least, my friends would be worried. At worst, they could be in serious danger. I didn't even know if Luke had made it out of the volcano. I tried to use my links with him and Grover several times, but I couldn't make contact. I hated not knowing if they were all right.

On the other hand, I really was weak. I couldn't stay on my feet more than a few hours. Whatever I'd done in Mount St. Helens had drained me like nothing else I'd ever done with my powers.

I didn't feel like a prisoner or anything. I had been captured multiple times. The incident last winter had only been the longest, and the worst. But the island of Ogygia wasn't like any of those at all. I thought about Luke, Grover, and Tyson constantly. I remembered exactly why I needed to leave. I just…couldn't. I didn't even want to. Not really. And then there was Calypso herself.

She didn't talk much about herself, but she encouraged me to. Multiple times, I found myself pouring my heart out to her. I told her everything, from the griefs of my childhood, to the terrors I suffered since learning of my paternal heritage. It was easy to talk to her, in a way I had never felt before.

At Camp, around my other friends, I always felt like I needed to be strong, and in control. It was no secret that I was the most likely candidate for the Great Prophecy, after all. And children of the Big Three was generally expected to be strong leaders. Those ever-present facts hung over my head 24/7, preventing me from showing weakness, even to the people I knew wouldn't judge me for it.

I didn't feel like that with Calypso. But despite her recalcitrance when it came to talking about herself, I could tell that something was bothering her.

Sometimes, while gardening, she would hold out her hand and birds would fly out of the woods to settle on her arm—lorikeets, parrots, doves. She would tell them good morning, ask how it was going back at the nest, and they would chirp for a while, then fly off cheerfully. Calypso's eyes gleamed. She would look at me and we'd share a smile, but almost immediately she'd get that sad expression again and turn away. I didn't understand what was bothering her.

One night we were eating dinner together on the beach. Invisible servants had set up a table with beef stew and apple cider, which may not sound all that exciting, but that's because you haven't tasted it. It was delicious. I hadn't even noticed the invisible servants when I first got to the island, but after a while I became aware of the beds making themselves, meals cooking on their own, clothes being washed and folded by unseen hands. Typically, I would've been unnerved at the thought of being unable to see beings surrounding me, but it was hard to feel threatened on Ogygia.

Anyway, Calypso and I were sitting at dinner, and I was telling her about New York and Camp Half-Blood, and then I started telling her about the time Grover had eaten an apple while we were playing Hacky Sack with it on my first quest. She laughed, giving a smile and our eyes met. Then she dropped her gaze, the smile fading away.

"There it is again," I commented, a frown growing on my face.

"What?"

"You keep pulling away, like you're trying not to enjoy yourself."

She kept her eyes on her glass of cider. "As I told you, Ana, I have been punished. Cursed, you might say."

"How? Tell me. I want to help."

"Don't say that. Please don't say that."

"Tell me what the punishment is."

She covered her half-finished stew with a napkin, and immediately an invisible servant whisked the bowl away. "Ana, this island, Ogygia, is my home, my birthplace. But it is also my prison. I am under…house arrest, I guess you would call it. I will never visit this Manhattan of yours. Or anywhere else. I am alone here."

"Because your father was Atlas."

She nodded. "The gods do not trust their enemies. And rightly so. I should not complain. Some of the prisons are not nearly as nice as mine."

"But that's not fair," I insisted. Typical of the gods, punishing the innocent. "Just because you're related doesn't mean you support him. That other daughter I mentioned, Zoë, Nightshade—she fought against him. She wasn't imprisoned."

"But, Ana," Calypso said gently, "I  _did_ support him in the first war. He is my father."

"What? But the Titans are evil!"

"Are they? All of them? All the time?" She pursed her lips. "Tell me, Ana. I have no wish to argue with you. But do you support the gods because they are good, or because they are your family?"

I didn't answer. She had a point. I didn't like the gods, except maybe for Hestia and Artemis who had both earned my respect.

But the majority of the gods were, in my experience, selfish and petty. I hated to look at the Hermes table and see people sitting on each other's laps because they were so overcrowded to due to gods not claiming their kids. I supported the Olympians because I considered them better than the Titans, and because my friends, my family, did too. Not because I had any genuine loyalty to the Olympians themselves.

"Perhaps I was wrong in the war," Calypso shrugged. "And in fairness, the gods have treated me well. They visit me from time to time. They bring me word of the outside world. But they can leave. And I cannot."

"You don't have any friends?" I asked. "I mean…wouldn't anyone else live here with you? It's beautiful here." That was an understatement. I had never been in a genuine paradise before Ogygia. Though of course, it was really a gilded cage. And Calypso was the one trapped within its' bars. I suddenly hated the island fiercely.

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I…I promised myself I wouldn't speak of this. But—"

She was interrupted by a rumbling sound somewhere out on the lake. A glow appeared on the horizon. It got brighter and brighter, until I could see a column of fire moving across the surface of the water, coming toward us.

I stood instantly, pulling my pin from my hair and twisting the emerald to summon Anaklusmos. My strength had improved over my stay, but it was still far harder to lift the bronze sword than usual. If I had to fight, I had my doubts as to how successful I'd be.

"No, Ana," Calypso reached out to touch my arm. "It is only a visitor."

Trusting her judgement, I returned the sword to its' hairpin form. A second later, the column of fire reached the beach. Calypso stood and bowed to it formally. The flames dissipated, and standing before us was a tall man in grey overalls and a metal leg brace, his beard and hair smouldering with fire.

"Lord Hephaestus," Calypso inclined her head to him respectfully. I didn't bother. "This is a rare honour."

The fire god grunted. "Calypso. Beautiful as always. Would you excuse us, please, my dear? I need to have a word with our young Ana Jackson."

That couldn't be good.

***  
Hephaestus sat down clumsily at the dinner table and ordered a Pepsi. The invisible servant brought him one, opened it too suddenly, and sprayed soda all over the god's clothes. Hephaestus roared and spat a few curses and swatted the can away.

"Stupid servants," he muttered. "Good automatons are what she needs. They never act up!"

"Lord Hephaestus," I interrupted, "what's going on? Is Luke—"

"He's fine," he assured me. I felt a weight lift itself from my shoulders at the news. "Resourceful boy, that one. Found his way back, told me the whole story. He's worried sick, you know."

I bit my lip, glancing down at the table as guilt clogged my throat. Gods, I was selfish. How dare I lounge around here on Ogygia, without even IMing my friends to let them know that I had survived?

"Everyone thinks that you're dead," Hephaestus continued. "I had to be sure you were coming back before I started telling everyone where you were."

"What do you mean?" I exclaimed in surprise. "Of course I'm coming back!"

I loved it here on Ogygia. If I had the choice, I'd happily stay here forever. But I didn't have that option.

If I didn't fulfil the Great Prophecy, it would fall to Nico. I couldn't let that happen, for several reasons. One, I had my doubts as to whether or not we'd last another five years until he turned sixteen, and two, I cared about Nico. This was too heavy a responsibility for me to force him to bear.

Besides, I had become leader of Camp Half-Blood over the past few years. They needed me.

Hephaestus studied me sceptically. He fished something out of his pocket—a metal disk the size of an iPod. He clicked a button and it expanded into a miniature bronze TV. On the screen was news footage of Mount St. Helens, a huge plume of fire and ash trailing into the sky.

"Still uncertain about further eruptions," the newscaster was saying. "Authorities have ordered the evacuation of almost half a million people as a precaution. Meanwhile, ash has fallen as far away as Lake Tahoe and Vancouver, and the entire Mount St. Helens area is closed to traffic within a hundred-mile radius. While no deaths have been reported, minor injuries and illnesses include—"

Hephaestus switched it off. "You caused quite an explosion."

I stared at the blank bronze screen. Half a million people evacuated? Injuries. Illness. What had I done? No deaths reported. Small mercies. Gods, I'd never meant for that to happen.

_The children of the Big Three were dangerous,_  Luke had told me, years ago. Strong enough to cause natural disasters by accident.

Since my claiming I'd worked hard to keep myself under control, no matter what. And now, the one time I lost control, I had caused a catastrophe. Gods, this was all my fault. People had lost their homes, been injured, because of me. Gods help me. I hadn't wanted that to happen.

"The telekhines were scattered," the god told me. "Some vaporized. Some got away, no doubt. I don't think they'll be using my forge any time soon. On the other hand, neither will I. The explosion caused Typon to stir in his sleep. We'll have to wait and see—"

"I couldn't release him, could I? I mean, I'm not that powerful!"

Please no, I begged mentally. Please don't let him have escaped because me. Don't let me have released a monster so powerful the gods themselves hid from him in fear. Please, please no.

The god grunted. "Not that powerful, eh? Could have fooled me. You're the daughter of the Earthshaker, girl. His first ever mortal daughter. You don't know your own strength."

That's the last thing I wanted him to say. I hadn't been in control of myself in that mountain. I'd released so much energy and unacknowledged pain and grief that I'd almost vaporized myself, drained all the life out of me.

Now I found out that I'd nearly destroyed the Northwest U.S. and almost woken the most horrible monster ever imprisoned by the gods. Maybe I was too dangerous. Maybe it was safer for my friends to think I was dead. What if I hurt them? I would never be able to forgive myself.

"What about Grover and Tyson?" I asked.

Hephaestus shook his head. "No word, I'm afraid. I suppose that the Labyrinth has them."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

Hephaestus winced. "Don't ever ask an old cripple for advice, girl. But I'll tell you this. You've met my wife?"

"Aphrodite."

"That's her. She's a tricky one, girl. Be careful of love. It'll twist your brain around and leave you thinking up is down and right is wrong."

I thought back to my meeting with Aphrodite last winter, just after the council meeting. I had been dead on my feet and eager to go home, but I remembered what she'd told Luke and I. She had plans for us. It wasn't reassuring.

"Is this part of her plan?" I asked. "Did she land me here?" I wasn't in love with Calypso, of course. But there was more than one type of love, and I was starting to  _love_  her. It would break my heart to abandon her.

I'd finally remembered what story she was in. Odysseus had landed on Ogygia while returning from Troy and met her. He'd been forced to abandon Calypso for duty's sake as well. I couldn't remember any other details, though.

"Possibly. Hard to say with her. But if you decide to leave this place—and I don't say what's right or wrong—then I promised you an answer to your quest. I promised you the way to Daedalus. Well now, here's the thing. It has nothing to do with Ariadne's string. Not really. Sure, the string works. That's what the Titan's army will be after.

But the best way through the maze…Theseus had the princess's help. And the princess was a regular mortal. Not a drop of god blood in her. But she was clever, and she could see, girl. She could see very clearly. So what I'm saying is—I think you know how to navigate the maze."

It finally sank in. Why hadn't I seen it before? Hera had been right. The answer was there all the time. I felt like an idiot for not putting two and two together.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Yeah, I know."

"Then you'll need to decide whether or not you're leaving."

"I…" I wanted to say yes. Of course I would. But the words stuck in my throat. I found myself looking out at the lake, and suddenly the idea of leaving seemed very hard. I had a  _responsibility_  to go. But I  _wanted_  to stay.

"Don't decide yet," Hephaestus advised. "Wait until daybreak. Daybreak is a good time for decisions."

"Will Daedalus even help us?" I wondered. "I mean, if he gives Annabeth and Ethan a way to navigate the Labyrinth, we're dead. I saw dreams about…Daedalus killed his nephew. He turned bitter and angry and—"

"It isn't easy being a brilliant inventor," Hephaestus rumbled. "Always alone. Always misunderstood. Easy to turn bitter, make horrible mistakes. People are more difficult to work with than machines. And when you break a person, he can't be fixed."

Hephaestus brushed the last drops of Pepsi off his work clothes. "Daedalus started well enough. He helped the Princess Ariadne and Theseus because he felt sorry for them. He tried to do a good deed. And everything in his life went bad because of it. Was that fair?" The god shrugged. "I don't know if Daedalus will help you, girl, but don't judge someone until you've stood at his forge and worked with his hammer, eh?"

"I'll—I'll try."

Hephaestus stood. "Good-bye, girl. You did well, destroying the telekhines. I'll always remember you for that."

It sounded very final, that good-bye. Then he erupted into a column of flame, and the fire moved over the water, heading back to the world outside.

***  
I walked along the beach for several hours. When I finally came back to the meadow, it was very late, maybe four or five in the morning, but Calypso was still in her garden, tending the flowers by starlight. Her moonlace glowed silver, and the other plants responded to the magic, glowing red and yellow and blue.

"He has ordered you to return," Calypso guessed.

"Well, not ordered. He gave me a choice."

Her eyes met mine. "I promised that I would not offer."

"Offer what?"

"For you to stay."

"Stay," I repeated. "Like…forever?"

"You would be immortal on this island," she informed me quietly. "You would never age or die. You could leave the fight to others, Anaea Jackson. You could escape your prophecy."

I stared at her, stunned. "Just like that?"

She nodded. "Just like that."

"But…my friends."

Calypso rose and took my hand. "You asked about my curse, Ana. I did not want to tell you. The truth is the gods send me companionship from time to time. Every thousand years or so, they allow a hero to wash up on my shores, someone who needs my help. I tend to him and befriend them, but it is never random. The Fates make sure that the sort of hero they send…"

Her voice trembled, and she had to stop.

I squeezed her hand tighter. "What? What have I done to make you sad?"

"They send a person who can never stay," she whispered. "Who can never accept my offer of companionship for more than a little while. They send me a hero I can't help…just the sort of person I can't help but love. Sometimes they are kinder, and send a sister, not a lover. But never can they stay."

I felt tears fall from my eyes and pulled her into a tight hug. It was a crueller torture than any I'd suffered on Othrys. "I'm sorry," I whispered into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry Calypso. I love you too. I wish that I could help you somehow."

"I told myself I would not even speak of this. I would let you go without even offering. But I can't. I suppose the Fates knew that, too. You could stay with me, Ana. I'm afraid that is the only way you could help me."

I stared at the horizon. The first red streaks of dawn were lightening the sky. I could stay here forever, disappear from the earth. I could live with Calypso, with invisible servants tending to my every need. We could grow flowers in the garden and talk to songbirds and walk on the beach under perfect blue skies. No war. No prophecy. No more taking sides. Peace.

And outside of Ogygia's wards, my family would be slaughtered, thinking me dead and unaware that I'd abandoned them for my own selfish desire for peace.

"I can't," I told her, tears flowing freely in a way that they hadn't since my mom's funeral almost a decade ago.

She looked down sadly.

"I would never do anything to hurt you if I could avoid it," I vowed, "but my friends need me. I know how to help them now. I have to get back."

She picked a flower from her garden—a sprig of silver moonlace. Its' glow faded as the sunrise came up. Daybreak is a good time for decisions, Hephaestus had said. Calypso tucked the flower into my tunic pocket.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the forehead, like a blessing. "Then come to the beach, my sister. And we will send you on your way."

***  
The raft was a ten-foot square of logs lashed together with a pole for a mast and a simple white linen sail. It didn't look like it would be very seaworthy, or lakeworthy. Of course, I knew well how deceiving appearances could be.

"This will take you wherever you desire," Calypso promised. "It is quite safe."

I took her hand, but she let it slip out of mine.

"Maybe I can visit you," I suggested desperately.

She shook her head. "No person ever finds Ogygia twice, Ana. When you leave, I will never see you again."

"But—"

"Go, please." Her voice broke. "The Fates are cruel, Ana. Just remember me." Then a little trace of her smile returned. "Plant a garden for me, will you?"

"I promise." I stepped onto the raft. Immediately it began to sail from the shore.

As I sailed onto the lake that I realized the Fates really were very cruel. Crueller than I'd realized. They sent Calypso someone she couldn't help but love, whether as a lover or as a sister. But it worked both ways. For the rest of my life I would always think of her. Abandoning her to her loneliness would always be my greatest regret.

Within minutes the island of Ogygia was lost in the mist. I was sailing alone over the water toward the sunrise.

Then I told the raft what to do. I said the only place I could think of, because I needed comfort and friends.

"Camp Half-Blood," I ordered. "Sail me home."


	13. I'm Late to My Own Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana walks in on her shroud being burned and reveals her plan to Luke and Chiron.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Glad everyone is enjoying this series. Can you guys believe that I'm almost done Book 4? I sure can't.**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**I'm Late to My Own Funeral**

Hours later, my raft washed up at Camp Half-Blood. How I got there, I have no idea. At some point the lake water just changed to salt water. The familiar shoreline of Long Island appeared up ahead, and a couple of friendly great white sharks surfaced and steered me toward the beach.

When I landed, the camp seemed deserted. It was late afternoon, but the archery range was empty. The climbing wall poured lava and rumbled all by itself. Pavilion: nothing. Cabins: all vacant. Then I noticed smoke rising from the amphitheatre. Too early for a campfire, and I didn't figure they were roasting marshmallows. I ran toward it.

Before I even got there I heard Chiron making an announcement. When I realized what he was saying, I stopped dead in my tracks. (Oh, bad choice of words.)

"—assume that she is dead," Chiron was saying. "After so long a silence, it is unlikely that our prayers will be answered. I have asked her best surviving friend to do the final honours."

I came up the back of the amphitheatre. Nobody noticed me. They were all looking forward, watching as Luke took a long green silk burial cloth, embroidered with a trident, and set it on the flames. They were burning my shroud.

Luke turned to face the audience. He looked terrible. His eyes were puffy from crying and his face pale and drawn with grief, but he managed to say, "She was the bravest, most loyal person that I've ever known. She…" Then he saw me. His blue eyes went wide. "She's right there!"

Heads turned. People gasped.

I forced a grin and sashayed forward like I wasn't hurting and pissed at the Fates for the billionth time.

"Oh c'mon," I laughed. "You guys didn't think something as small as being at the epicentre of a volcanic explosion could kill  _me_ , did you?"

There was a moment of silence as everyone seemed to realize that yes, I was really there. Then there was a roar of cheers, and I was tackled by seemingly the entire camp. Everyone was hugging me and asking me questions. It should've made me feel claustrophobic, but instead I just felt warm, my anger and grief easing a bit.

Yes, I was still upset over Calypso. I would be for a long time. But I knew I had made the right decision to leave. I had definitely needed the opportunity to rest and recover, from everything that had happened in the past few  _years_ , not just the last couple of months.

But that peaceful life with only her and the invisible servants for company wasn't me. I couldn't have abandoned my friends, letting them think I was dead and fight the war themselves. This place, Camp Half-Blood, was my home, not Ogygia. And these people were my family.

I hugged everyone back tightly, and when I got to Silena, she beamed at me. Silena was an empath, meaning she could pick up on other's emotions. She'd been openly worried for me since my return, but now she seemed relieved. "You're back!" she declared, and I got the feeling that she meant more than physically.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I'm back."

For the first time in months, I didn't feel like my every move was being haunted by memories of Othrys. They would never leave me, of course. But Ogygia had healed me in a way that Camp Half-Blood, where reminders were all constantly hovering in the back of my mind, hadn't been able to. The memories wouldn't rule me any longer.

Chiron cantered over and everyone made way for him.

"Well," he sighed with obvious relief. "I don't believe I've ever been happier to see a camper return. But you must tell me—"

"WHERE THE HADES HAVE YOU BEEN?" Luke demanded, shoving aside the other campers. I thought he was going to punch me, but instead he hugged me so fiercely he made my ribs ache. The other campers fell silent.

"I'm sorry," I murmured guiltily. "I, uhm, got lost." I wasn't ready to talk about Calypso yet. Certainly not where everyone could hear.

"Lost?" Luke repeated disbelievingly. "Are you kidding me, Ariel? We thought you were dead! I couldn't feel you! Where-"

"That will do, Luke," Chiron cut in, giving Luke a stern look. He fell silent, but I knew that the conversation wasn't over. Only delayed.

"Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private, shall we?" Chiron continued. "The rest of you, back to your normal activities!"

Without giving us a chance to protest, he picked up Luke and I as easily as if we were kittens, slung us both on his back, and galloped off toward the Big House.

***  
I didn't tell them the whole story. I just couldn't bring myself to talk about Calypso. I explained how I'd caused the explosion at Mount St. Helens and gotten blasted out of the volcano. I told them I'd been marooned on an island, and been unconscious for a while. Then Hephaestus had found me and told me I could leave. A magic raft had carried me back to camp.

Nothing was an actual lie, but I still felt guilty.

"You've been gone two weeks." Luke's voice was steadier now, but he still looked pretty shaken up. "When I heard the explosion, I thought—"

"I know," I said. I reached out and took his hand in my own, rubbing my work-rough thumb over the tiny scars that littered his calloused hands. "I'm sorry. But I figured out how to get through the Labyrinth. I talked to Hephaestus."

"He told you the answer?"

"Well, he sort of told me that I already knew. And I do. I understand now."

I told them my idea.

"Have you gone insane?" Luke asked me, looking completely serious. "That's the craziest plan you've ever come up with, and that's saying a  _lot_."

I'd give him that.

Chiron sat back in his wheelchair and stroked his beard. "There is precedent, however. Theseus had the help of Ariadne. Harriet Tubman, daughter of Hermes, used many mortals on her Underground Railroad for just this reason."

"But she's a mortal," Luke protested. "She won't be able to defend herself. We'll be over-stretched, trying to protect her."

"Luke, this is my quest," I reminded him firmly, hardening my voice. "We don't have long. My last vision had Annabeth and Ethan talking about negotiating. It sounded like they might've met Daedalus already. We have no other options if we want to save Camp."

For a moment, rebellion flashed over Luke's expression, before he gave in. "Fine," he bit out. "But I still think it's a bad idea. Mortals can't handle our world."

I got where he was coming from. I really did. Some mortals simply couldn't deal with knowledge of the supernatural world that lived alongside them. Thalia's mother had turned to the bottle to cope, and Luke's mother had literally gone crazy. I could think of a dozen other examples just off the top of my head.

My mom had been the exception, not the rule. But I had the feeling that Rachel was the exception too.

"She handled herself quite well back at Goode," I pointed out. "And with the skeletons back in December. Anyway, we need her help."

"This is a bad idea," Luke insisted, before stomping out of the room, not letting me protest. I sighed, my shoulders slumping, and ran a hand through my hair, which was loose and hanging around my shoulders.

"Luke will come around, my dear," Chiron assured me, a sympathetic smile on his face. "He has been frantic with worry for you. And his experiences with mortals have never gone well, as you know."

"Yeah, I know," I murmured. Gods, I knew. My own experiences with mortals had never been great either. The only one I'd ever had a good relationship with was Mom. "But we need her help. There isn't a lot of time left before they attack, I can feel it. We lost way too much time when I was on the island."

"Yes, the island," Chiron repeated gently. I glanced at him, then looked away. There was a knowing look in his eye, and he rested a hand comfortingly on my shoulder. "I think Luke also suspects where you were marooned."

I met his eyes, and I knew Chiron that had guessed about Calypso. It was hard to hide anything from a guy who's been training heroes for three thousand years. He's pretty much seen it all.

"We won't dwell on the past," Chiron told me firmly. "You came back. That is what matters. In the morning, Argus will take the two of you into Manhattan."

I glanced at the window, twisting a strand of brunette hair around my finger so tightly it started turning purple. "Chiron," I began, "what about Grover and Tyson? Do you think—"

"I don't know, my girl." Chiron gazed into the empty fireplace. "Juniper is quite distressed. All her branches are turning yellow. The Council of Cloven Elders had revoked Grover's searcher license in absentia. Assuming he comes back alive, they will force him into a shameful exile." He sighed. "Grover and Tyson are very resourceful, however. We can still hope."

"I shouldn't have let them run off."

"Grover has his own destiny, and Tyson was brave to follow him. You would know if Grover was in mortal danger, don't you think?"

"I suppose. The empathy link. But—"

"There is something else I should tell you, Ana," he informed me. "Actually, two unpleasant things."

"Great." Sometimes I really hated being the unspoken leader of Camp Half-Blood. All the time, actually. Still, I had been entrusted with the responsibility by the people I loved most in the world, so I'd do it. "Hit me with it, then."

"Chris Rodriguez, our guest…"

"Is he dead?" Clarisse would be devastated. It was obvious that she loved him.

"Not yet," Chiron said grimly. "But he's much worse. He's in the infirmary now, too weak to move. I had to order Clarisse back to her regular schedule, because she was at his bedside constantly. He doesn't respond to anything. He won't take food or drink. None of my medicines help. He has simply lost the will to live."

I shuddered. Poor Clarisse. I felt horrible for her. She'd tried so hard to help him. And now that I'd been in the Labyrinth, I could understand why it had been so easy for the ghost of Minos to drive Chris mad. If I'd been wandering around down there alone, without my friends to help, I'd never have made it out. The flashbacks alone would've been enough to destroy me.

"I'm sorry to say," Chiron continued, "the other news is less pleasant still. Quintus has disappeared."

"Disappeared? How?"

"Three nights ago he slipped into the Labyrinth. Juniper watched him go. It appears you may have been right about him."

"He's almost definitely a spy for the Titans." I told Chiron about the Triple G Ranch—how Quintus had bought his scorpions there and Geryon had been supplying Kronos' army. "It can't be a coincidence."

Chiron sighed heavily. "So many betrayals. I had hoped Quintus would prove a friend. It seems that my judgment was bad."

"What about Mrs. O'Leary?" I asked.

"The hellhound is still in the arena. It won't let anyone approach. I did not have the heart to force it into a cage…or destroy it."

That took me by surprise. Quintus had seemed to dote on the hellhound, and he'd put so much time and effort into taming her. Then he'd just abandoned her? It seemed strange.

"Quintus wouldn't just leave her."

"As I said, Ana, we seem to have been wrong about him. Now, you should prepare yourself for the morning. You and Luke still have much to do. You will need to contact your mortal friend as well."

I left him in his wheelchair, staring sadly into the fireplace. I wondered how many times he'd sat here, waiting for heroes that never came back.

I shivered and hurried away. Why would anybody ever want to be immortal? To watch the ones you loved wither and die, knowing that you'd never have a chance to reunite with them in the Underworld? I couldn't think of a worse fate.

***  
Before dinner I stopped by the sword arena. Sure enough, Mrs. O'Leary was curled up in an enormous black furry mound in the middle of the stadium, chewing half-heartedly on the head of a warrior dummy.

When she saw me, she barked and came bounding toward me. I thought I was dead meat. I just had time to say, "Whoa!" before she bowled me over and started licking my face. Now usually, being the daughter of Poseidon and all, I only get wet if I want to, but my powers apparently did not extend to dog saliva, because I got a pretty good bath.

"Whoa, girl!" I yelled. "Can't breathe. Lemme up!"

Eventually I managed to get her off me. I scratched her ears and found her an extra-gigantic dog biscuit.

"Where's your master?" I asked her as I petted her gently. "How could he just leave you, huh?"

She whimpered like she wanted to know that, too. I was ready to believe Quintus was an enemy, but still I couldn't understand why he'd leave Mrs. O'Leary behind. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that he really cared for his megadog.  
I was thinking about that and towelling the dog spit off my face when a girl's voice said, "You're lucky she didn't bite your head off."

I looked up. Clarisse was standing at the other end of the arena with her sword and shield. "Came here to practice yesterday," she grumbled. "Dog tried to chew me up."

"She's hurting," I murmured. "Quintus left her. She's upset."

She scoffed and walked toward us without answering. Mrs. O'Leary growled, but I patted her on the head and calmed her down.

"Stupid hellhound," Clarisse hissed. "Not going to keep me from practicing."

"I heard about Chris," I told her. "I'm sorry."

He'd been a traitor, but I got why he'd defected. Being a demigod was so  _hard_ , and thankless. All you got was a short lifespan, and, if you were 'lucky', your parent might deem you worthy of snapping their fingers to acknowledge you as theirs. Having a happier life in exchange for defecting was a tempting prospect.

Clarisse paced a circle around the arena. When she came to the nearest dummy, she attacked viciously, chopping its' head off with a single blow and driving her sword through its guts. She pulled the sword out and kept walking.

"Yeah, well. Sometimes things go wrong." Her voice was shaky. "Heroes get hurt. They…they die, and the monsters just keep coming back."

She picked up a javelin and threw it across the arena. It nailed a dummy straight between the eyeholes of its' helmet.

"Chris was brave," I offered. "I hope he gets better." I meant it too.

She glared at me as if I were her next target. Mrs. O'Leary growled.

"Do me a favour," Clarisse told me.

"Yes, of course. You're my friend." There was nothing I wouldn't do for my friends.

"If you find Daedalus, don't trust him. Don't ask him for help. Just kill him."

Except that. I'd never killed a person before, only monsters. I silently hoped that I could get out of this war without resorting to that, but I had my doubts. The Fates weren't that merciful. Best I could do was put it off. "Clarisse—"

"Because anybody who can make something like the Labyrinth, Ana? That person is evil. Plain evil."

For a second she reminded me of Eurytion the cowherd, her much older half-brother. She had the same hard look in her eyes, as if she'd been used for the past two thousand years and was getting tired of it. She sheathed her sword. "Practice time is over. From now on, it's for real."

***  
That night I slept in my own bunk, and for the first time since Calypso's Island, dreams found me.

I was in a king's courtroom—a big white chamber with marble columns and a wooden throne. Sitting on it was a plump guy with curly red hair and a crown of laurels. At his side stood three girls who looked like his daughters. They all had his red hair and were dressed in blue robes.

The doors creaked open and a herald announced, "Minos, King of Crete!"

I tensed, but the man on the throne just smiled at his daughters. "I can't wait to see the expression on his face."

Minos, the royal creep himself, swept into the room. He was so tall and serious he made the other king look silly. Minos' pointed beard had gone grey. He looked thinner than the last time I'd dreamed of him, and his sandals were splattered with mud, but the same cruel light shined in his eyes.

He bowed stiffly to the man on the throne. "King Cocalus. I understand you have solved my little riddle?"

Cocalus smiled. "Hardly little, Minos. Especially when you advertise across the world that you are willing to pay a thousand gold talents to the one who can solve it. Is the offer genuine?"

Minos clapped his hands. Two buff guards walked in, struggling with a big wooden crate. They set it at Cocalus' feet and opened it. Stacks of gold bars glittered. It had to be worth like a gazillion dollars.

Cocalus whistled appreciatively. "You must have bankrupted your kingdom for such a reward, my friend."

"That is not your concern."

Cocalus shrugged casually. "The riddle was quite simple, really. One of my retainers solved it."

"Father," one of the girls warned. She looked like the oldest—a little taller than her sisters.

Cocalus ignored her. He took a spiral seashell from the folds of his robe. A silver string had been threaded through it, so it hung like a huge bead on a necklace.

Minos stepped forward and took the shell. "One of your retainers, you say? How did he thread the string without breaking the shell?"

"He used an ant, if you can believe it. Tied a silk string to the little creature and coaxed it through the shell by putting honey at the far end."

"Ingenious man," Minos commented. Cocalus didn't seem to pick up on the deadliness in his voice.

"Oh, indeed. My daughters' tutor. They are quite fond of him."

Minos' eyes turned cold. "I would be careful of that."

I wanted to warn Cocalus: Don't trust this guy! Throw him in the dungeon with some man-eating lions or something! But, as always, I was helpless to do anything but watch as the redheaded king just chuckled. "Not to worry, Minos. My daughters are wise beyond their years. Now, about my gold—"

"Yes," Minos nodded. "But you see the gold is for the man who solved the riddle. And there can be only one such man. You are harbouring Daedalus."

Cocalus shifted uncomfortably on his throne. "How is that you know his name?"

"He is a thief," Minos replied coldly. "He once worked in my court, Cocalus. He turned my own daughter against me. He helped a usurper make a fool of me in my own palace. And then he escaped justice. I have been pursuing him for ten years." One side of the story, that left out how Daedalus and Icarus had been trapped and basically enslaved by Minos for years. I sneered at Minos, feeling hate surge in my breast. If he went near Nico again, ghost or not, I'd figure out a way to make him pay.

"I knew nothing of this. But I have offered the man my protection. He has been a most useful—"

"I offer you a choice," Minos cut him off. "Turn over the fugitive to me, and this gold is yours. Or risk making me your enemy. You do not want Crete as your enemy."

Cocalus paled. I thought it was stupid for him to look so scared in the middle of his own throne room. He should've summoned his army or something. Minos only had two guards. But Cocalus just sat there sweating on his throne.

"Father," his oldest daughter plead, "you can't—"

"Silence, Aelia." Cocalus twisted his beard. He looked again at the glittering gold. "This pains me, Minos. The gods do not love a man who breaks his oath of hospitality."

"The gods do not love those who harbour criminals, either."

The gods don't love anybody except themselves.

Cocalus nodded. "Very well. You shall have your man in chains."

"Father!" Aelia cried. Then she caught herself, and changed her voice to a sweeter tone. "At—at least let us feast our guest first. After his long journey, he should be treated to a hot bath, new clothes, and a decent meal. I would be honoured to draw the bath myself."

She smiled prettily at Minos, and the old king grunted. "I suppose a bath would not be amiss." He looked at Cocalus. "I will see you at dinner, my lord. With the prisoner."

"This way, Your Majesty," simpered Aelia. She and her sisters led Minos out of the chamber.

I followed them into a bath chamber decorated with mosaic tiles. Steam filled the air. A running-water faucet poured hot water into the tub. Aelia and her sisters filled it with rose petals and something that must've been Ancient Greek Mr. Bubble, because soon the water was covered with multicoloured foam. The girls and I turned aside as Minos dropped his roves and slipped into the bath.

"Ahh." He smiled. "An excellent bath. Thank you, my dears. The journey has been long indeed."

"You have been chasing your prey ten years, my lord?" Aelia asked, batting her eyelashes. "You must be very determined."

"I never forget a debt." Minos grinned. "Your father was wise to agree to my demands."

"Oh, indeed, my lord!" Aelia cried. I thought she was laying on the flattery pretty thick, but the old guy was eating it up. Arrogance and misogynism at its' finest. It was obvious to me that the princesses had a plan in mind, but Minos was oblivious as Aelia's sisters trickled scented oil over the king's head.

"You know, my lord," Aelia said lightly, a deadly look in her eyes. "Daedalus thought you would come. He thought the riddle might be a trap, but he couldn't resist solving it."

Minos frowned. "Daedalus spoke to you about me?"

"Yes, my lord."

"He is a bad man, princess. My own daughter fell under his spell. Do not listen to him." I scoffed slightly and rolled my eyes. He talked to them like they were three instead of in their teens. Old enough to marry in those times.

"He is a genius," Aelia answered coldly. "And he believes a woman is just as smart as a man. He was the first to ever teach us as if we had minds of our own. Perhaps your daughter felt the same way."

Minos tried to sit up, but Aelia's sisters pushed him back into the water. Aelia came up behind him. She held three tiny orbs in her palm. At first I thought they were bath beads. But she threw them in the water and the beads sprouted bronze threads that began wrapping around the king, tying him up at the ankles, binding his wrists to his sides, circling his neck. Even though I hated Minos, it was pretty horrible to watch. He thrashed and cried out, but the girls were much stronger. Soon he was helpless, lying in the bath with his chin just above the water. The bronze strands were still wrapping around him like a cocoon, tightening across his body.

"What do you want?" Minos demanded. "Why do you do this?"

Aelia smiled. "Daedalus has been kind to us, Your Majesty. And I do not like you threatening our father." I didn't blame her for that.

"You tell Daedalus," Minos growled. "You tell him I will hound him even after death! If there is any justice in the Underworld, my soul will haunt him for eternity!"

"Brave words, Your Majesty," Aelia said. "I wish you luck finding your justice in the Underworld."

And with that, the bronze threads wrapped around Minos' face, making him a bronze mummy.

The door of the bathhouse opened. Daedalus stepped in, carrying a traveller's bag.

He'd trimmed his hair short. His beard was pure white. He looked frail and sad, but he reached down and touched the mummy's forehead. The threads unravelled and sank to the bottom of the tub. There was nothing inside them. It was as if King Minos had just dissolved.

"A painless death," Daedalus mused. "More than he deserved. Thank you, my princesses."

Aelia hugged him. "You cannot stay here, teacher. When our father finds out—"

"Yes," Daedalus agreed. "I fear I have brought you trouble."

"Oh, do not worry for us. Father will be happy enough taking that old man's gold. And Crete is a very long way away. But he will blame you for Minos' death. You must flee to somewhere safe."

"Somewhere safe," the old man repeated. "For years I have fled from kingdom to kingdom, looking for somewhere safe. I fear Minos told the truth. Death will not stop him from hounding me. There is no place under the sun that will harbour me, once word of this crime gets out."

"Then where will you go?" Aelia worried.

"A place I swore never to enter again," Daedalus sighed. "My prison may be my only sanctuary."

"I do not understand," Aelia frowned.

"It's best you do not."

"But what of the Underworld?" one of her sisters asked. "Terrible judgment will await you! Every man must die."

"Perhaps," Daedalus mused. Then he brought a scroll from his traveling bag—the same scroll I'd seen in my last dream, with his nephew's notes. "Or perhaps not."

He patted Aelia's shoulder, then blessed her and her sisters. He looked down once more at the coppery threads glinting in the bottom of the bath. "Find me if you dare, king of the ghosts." The title made my eyes narrow, furthering confirming my fears about my most recent prophecy.

He turned toward the mosaic wall and touched a tile. A glowing mark appeared—a Greek Δ—and the wall slid aside. The princesses gasped.

"You never told us of secret passages!" Aelia exclaimed. "You have been busy."

"The Labyrinth has been busy," Daedalus corrected. "Do not try to follow me, my dears, if you value your sanity."

My dream shifted. I was underground in a stone chamber. Annabeth and another half-blood warrior were studying a map by flashlight.

Annabeth cursed. "It should've been the last turn." She crumpled up the map and tossed it aside.

"Ma'am!" her companion protested.

"Maps are useless here," Annabeth snapped. "Don't worry. I'll find it. I studied the Labyrinth for years."

"Ma'am, is it true that the larger the group—"

"The more likely you get lost? Yes, that's true. Why do you think we sent out solo explorers to begin with? But don't worry. As soon we have the thread, we can lead the vanguard through."

"But how will we get the thread?"

Annabeth stood, flexing her fingers. "Oh, Quintus will come through. All we have to do is reach the arena, and it's at the juncture. Impossible to get anywhere without passing it. That's why we must have a truce with its master. We just have to stay alive until—"

"Ma'am!" a new voice came from the corridor. Another guy in Greek armour ran forward, carrying a torch. "The dracaenae found a half-blood!"

Annabeth scowled. "Alone? Wandering the maze?"

"Yes, ma'am! You'd better come quick. They're in the next chamber. They've got him cornered."

"Who is it?"

"No one I've ever seen before, ma'am."

Annabeth nodded. "A blessing from Kronos. We may be able to use this half-blood. Come!"

They ran down the corridor, and I woke with a start, staring into the dark. A lone half-blood, wandering in the maze. It was a long time before I got to sleep again.

***  
The next morning I made sure that Mrs. O'Leary had enough dog biscuits. I asked Beckendorf to keep an eye on her, which he didn't seem too happy about, though he'd agreed anyway. Then I hiked over Half-Blood Hill and met Luke and Argus on the road.

Luke and I didn't talk much in the van. He must've forgiven me though, because he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer when he noticed the strained look that I was wearing. Cars had made me nervous for years, a combination of my severe claustrophobia and Mom's death. The only transport worse than a car was an airplane. Personally, I much preferred motorbikes.

Luke looked drawn, with dark shadows under his eyes. It looked as if he'd slept even worse than me.

"Bad dreams?" I asked at last.

He shook his head. "An Iris-message from Eurytion."

"Eurytion! Is something wrong with Nico?"

"He left the ranch last night, heading back into the maze."

"σκατά!"

"Nico was gone before he woke up. Orthus tracked his scent as far as the cattle guard. Eurytion said he'd been hearing Nico talk to himself the last few nights. Only now he thinks Nico was talking with the ghost again, Minos."

"He's in danger," I stated.

"No kidding. Minos is one of the judges of the dead, but he's got a vicious streak a mile wide. I don't know what he wants with Nico, but—"

"That's not what I meant," I interrupted. "I had this dream last night…" I told him about Annabeth, how she'd mentioned Quintus, and how her men had found a half-blood alone in the maze.

Luke's jaw clenched. "That's very, very bad."

"So what do we do?"

"What do we always do? Roll with the hits and hope that Tyche and Nike are on our side."

I'd used the single landline at the Big House to call Rachel last night before bed, and we'd arranged a meeting in Times Square. We found Rachel in front of the Marriott Marquis, and she was completely painted gold.

And when I say completely, I really mean it. Her face, her hair, her clothes—everything. She looked like she'd been touched by King Midas. She was standing like a statue with five other kids all painted metallic—copper, bronze, silver. They were frozen in different poses while tourists hustled past or stopped to stare. Some passerby threw money at the tarp on the sidewalk.

The sign at Rachel's feet said, URBAN ART FOR KIDS, DONATIONS APPRECIATED.

Luke and I stood there for like five minutes, staring at Rachel, but if she noticed us she didn't let on. She didn't move or even blink that I could see. Being ADHD and rightfully paranoid, I could never have done that. Standing still that long would've driven me crazy. It was weird to see Rachel in gold, too. She looked like a statue of somebody famous, an actress or something. Only her eyes were normal green.

"Are we sure that she's alive?" Luke muttered to me, eyeing Rachel curiously.

I scanned her and nodded. "Yeah, she's breathing," I assured him. "See, you can see her chest moving if you look carefully."

"Oh yeah. How long should we wait, d'you think?"

I shrugged, and after another few minutes, a kid in silver walked up from the hotel taxi stand, where he'd been taking a break. He took a pose like he was lecturing the crowd, right next to Rachel. Rachel unfroze and stepped off the tarp grinning at us.

"Hey, Ana, Luke." She grinned. "Good timing! Let's get some coffee."

We walked down to a place called the Java Moose on West 43rd. Rachel ordered an Espresso Extreme, the kind of stuff Grover would like. Luke and I got fruit smoothies and we sat at a table right under the stuffed moose. Nobody even looked twice at Rachel in her golden outfit.

"Do you always dress in gold?" I finally asked, fidgeting with my straw. How do you ask a mortal to risk their life to save your home? It seemed kind of selfish.

"Not usually," Rachel answered. "We're raising money for our group. We do volunteer art projects for elementary kids 'cause they're cutting art from the schools, you know? We do this once a month, take in about five hundred dollars on a good weekend. What about you two? What do half-gods do in their free time?"

"Don't be so loud!" Luke ordered, looking around paranoidly. "Someone could hear you!"

Rachel opened her mouth to reply, and I quickly cut in before tempers could flare. I didn't know what Rachel's temper was like, but Luke and I's were awful. "Okay, let's all just stay calm and quiet, alright?"

"I'm calm," Rachel insisted. "Every time I'm around one of you, some monster attacks us. What's to be nervous about?"

I winced at that. "I'm really sorry about the band room. I hope you didn't get in trouble or anything."

"Nah. They asked me a lot of questions about you. I played dumb."

Luke grimaced as I kicked his leg. "Thanks for last winter," he said grumpily. "It was, uh, brave of you to help."

Rachel raised her eyebrows at him. "You're welcome," she replied dryly. "What did you guys want to meet with me about, anyway?"

I exhaled heavily. I knew that it was the only way, but bringing an innocent mortal into this world of walking nightmares and premature deaths didn't sit right with me. She definitely wasn't a fighter, as well. I could tell that at a glance. She didn't have the right stance to even be taking self-defence courses! Still, we were out of options, and Camp was almost out of time.

"Rachel, we've got a problem," I admitted frankly. "And we need your help."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at the two us. "You need my help?"

Luke stirred his straw in his smoothie. "Yeah," he said suddenly. "We do."

I told Rachel about the Labyrinth, and how we needed to find Daedalus. I told her what had happened the last few times we'd gone in.

"So you want me to guide you," she stated. "Through a place I've never been."

"You can see through the Mist," I explained. "Just like Ariadne. I'm betting you can see the right path. The Labyrinth won't be able to fool you as easily."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then we'll get lost. Either way, it'll be dangerous. Very, very dangerous."

"I could die?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you said monsters don't care about mortals. Luke's sword—"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Celestial bronze doesn't hurt mortals. Most monsters would ignore you. But Chase and Nakamura…they don't care. They'll use mortals, demigods, monsters, whatever. And they'll kill anyone who gets in their way."

"Nice guys," Rachel commented.

Luke glowered at the table, and I crossed my arms. "Are you in or not?"

Rachel looked back and forth between us. "Okay," she agreed. "I'm in."

I blinked. I hadn't figured it would be so easy. Nothing ever was, and I hadn't thought that a mortal would be so casual about risking their lives. Then again, maybe it wasn't really computing for her how serious all of this was, or something. When did normal people start realizing their own mortality? I'd realized at six when Mom died, but I didn't know when most mortals realized the finality of death. My life before Camp seemed so far away now.

"Are you sure?"

"Hey, my summer was going to be boring. This is the best offer I've gotten yet. So what do I look for?"

"We have to find an entrance to the Labyrinth," Luke replied. "There's an entrance at Camp Half-Blood, but you can't go there. It's off-limits to mortals."

Rachel just nodded. "Okay. What does an entrance to the Labyrinth look like?"

"It could be anything," I shrugged. "A section of wall. A boulder. A doorway. A sewer entrance. But it would have the mark of Daedalus on it. A Greek Δ, glowing in blue."

"Like this?" Rachel drew the symbol Delta in water on our table.

"That's it," I confirmed. "You know Greek?"

"No," Rachel shook her head. She pulled a big blue plastic hairbrush from her pocket and started brushing the gold out of her hair. "Let me get changed. You'd better come with me to the Marriott."

"Why?" Luke asked suspiciously. I kicked him again, making him 'oopf' softly.

"Because there's an entrance like that in the hotel basement, where we store our costumes. It's got the mark of Daedalus."


	14. I Battle My Brother to the Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana, Luke and Rachel reenter the Labyrinth

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**I Battle My Brother to the Death (No, the other brother)**

The metal door was half hidden behind a laundry bin full of dirty hotel towels. At first I didn't see anything strange about it, but Rachel showed me where to look, and I recognized the faint blue symbol etched in the metal.

"It hasn't been used in a long time," Luke noted.

"I tried to open it once," Rachel commented, "just out of curiosity. It's rusted shut though."

"No." Luke stepped forward. "It just needs the touch of a half-blood."

Sure enough, as soon as Luke put his hand on the mark, it glowed blue. The metal door unsealed and creaked open, revealing a dark staircase leading down.

"Wow." Rachel looked calm, but I couldn't tell if she was pretending or not. She'd changed into a ratty Museum of Modern Art T-shirt and her regular marker-coloured jeans, her blue plastic hairbrush sticking out of her pocket. Her red hair was tied back, but she still had flecks of gold in it, and there were traces of the gold glitter on her face. "So…after you?"

"You're the guide," Luke said with mock politeness. "Lead on." I jabbed him in the ribs, making him huff as I gave him an irritated look. just because I understood why he was being so hostile, didn't make it acceptable.

The stairs led down to a large brick tunnel. It was so dark I couldn't see two feet in front of us, but Luke and I had restocked on flashlights. As soon as we switched them on, Rachel yelped.

A skeleton was grinning at us. It obviously wasn't human. It was huge, for one thing—at least ten feet tall. It had been strung up, chained by its' wrists and ankles so it made a kind of giant X over the tunnel. But what really sent shivers down my spine was the single black eye socket in the centre of its skull.

"A Cyclops," Luke stated. "It's very old. It's not…anybody we know."

It wasn't Tyson, he meant. But that didn't make me feel much better. I still felt like it had been put here as a warning. Whatever could kill a grown Cyclops, I didn't want to meet. And that it could do it in a way that the skeleton survived, instead of crumbling into dust with the rest of the Cyclops only increased my worry.

Rachel swallowed. "You have a friend who's a Cyclops?"

"Tyson," I explained. "My brother. Half, obviously. We've a lot of half-siblings, 'course, but I'm the only demigod of Poseidon living at the moment."

"Your half-brother."

"Hopefully we'll find him down here," I drummed my fingers on my thigh worriedly. "And Grover. He's a satyr."

"Oh." Her voice was small. "Well then, we'd better keep moving."

She stepped under the skeleton's left arm and kept walking. Luke and I exchanged looks. I shrugged, and we followed Rachel deeper into the maze. Truthfully, she was holding up better than I'd thought that she would.

After fifty feet we came to a crossroads. Ahead, the brick tunnel continued. To the right, the walls were made of ancient marble slabs. To the left, the tunnel was dirt and tree roots.

I pointed left. "That looks like the tunnel Tyson and Grover took."

Luke frowned. "Yeah, but those old stones on the right are more likely to lead to an ancient part of the maze, toward Daedalus' workshop. That's the most logical route to take."

"We need to go straight," Rachel declared.

Luke and I both looked at her.

"Straight?" I repeated. "Why?"

"You don't see it?" she asked. "Look at the floor."

I saw nothing except well-worn bricks and mud.

"There's a brightness there," Rachel insisted. "Very faint. But forward is the correct way. To the left, farther down the tunnel, those tree roots are moving like feelers. I don't like that. To the right, there's a trap about twenty feet down. Holes in the walls, maybe for spikes. I don't think we should risk it."

I didn't see anything like she was describing, but I nodded. "Okay. Forward."

"You believe her?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Don't you?" I gave him a pointed look, silently reminding him who was in charge here.

He still looked like he wanted to argue, but he gave in and waved at Rachel to lead on. Together we kept walking down the brick corridor. It twisted and turned, but there were no more side tunnels. We seemed to be angling down, heading deeper underground.

"No traps?" I asked anxiously.

"Nothing." Rachel knit her eyebrows. "Should it be this easy?"

"I don't know," I replied tensely. "It never was before."

"So, Rachel," Luke said casually, "where are you from, exactly?"

He said it like, what planet are you from? But Rachel didn't look offended.

"Brooklyn," she answered.

"Aren't your parents going to be worried if you're out late?"

Rachel exhaled. "Not likely. I could be gone a week and they'd never notice."

"Why not?" This time Luke didn't sound as sarcastic. Having trouble with parents was something he understood. Something every half-blood understood really.

Before Rachel could answer, there was a creaking noise in front of us, like huge doors opening.

"What was that?" I demanded sharply.

"I don't know," Rachel shrugged. "Metal hinges."

Then I heard heavy footsteps shaking the corridor—coming toward us.

"Run?" I suggested.

"Run," Rachel agreed.

We turned and fled the way we'd come, but we didn't make it twenty feet before we ran straight into some old friends. Two dracaenae levelled their javelins at our chests. Standing between them was Kelli, the empousa cheerleader.

"Well, well," Kelli said.

I summoned Riptide, and Luke unsheathed Halcyon; but before my sword was even out of pin form, Kelli pounced on Rachel. Her hand turned into a claw and she spun Rachel around, holding her tight with her talons at Rachel's neck.

"Taking your little mortal pet for a walk?" Kelli asked me. "They're such fragile things. So easy to break!"

Behind us, the footsteps came closer. A huge form appeared out of the gloom—an eight-foot-tall Laistrygonian giant with red eyes and fangs.

The giant licked his lips when he saw us. "Can I eat them?"

"No," Kelli refused. "Your master will want these. They will provide a great deal of entertainment." She smiled at me. "Now march, half-bloods. Or you all die here, starting with the mortal girl."

***  
It was something out of one of my nightmares. We were marched down the tunnel, flanked by dracaenae, with Kelli and the giant in back, just in case we tried to run for it. Nobody seemed to worry about us running forward. That was the direction they wanted us to go.

Up ahead I could see bronze doors. They were about ten feet tall, emblazoned with a pair of crossed swords. From behind them came a muffled roar, like from a crowd.

"Oh, yessssss," said the snake woman on my left. "You'll be very popular with our hossssst."

I'd never gotten to look at a dracaena this close before, and I wasn't exactly thrilled to have the opportunity. She would've had a beautiful face, except her tongue was forked and her eyes were yellow with black slits for pupils. She wore bronze armour that stopped at her waist. Below that, where her legs should've been, were two massive snake trunks, mottled bronze and green. She moved by a combination of slithering and walking, as if she were on living skis.

"Who's your host?" I asked.

She hissed, which might have been a laugh. "Oh, you'll sssssee. You'll get along furiousssly. He'ssss your brother, after all."

"My what?" Immediately I thought of Tyson, but that was impossible. Which brother was she talking about? It wasn't like I had a shortage of them, after all. Just they were all immortals or monsters, neither of which I looked forward to dealing with today.

The giant pushed past us and opened the doors. He picked up Luke by his shirt and ordered, "You stay here."

"Watch it!" he protested, but the guy was twice his size and he'd already confiscated our swords. And with Anaklusmos being held, I didn't know how long it'd take to return to my hair.

Kelli laughed. She still had her claws at Rachel's neck. "Go on, Ana. Entertain us. We'll wait here with your friends to make sure you behave."

"Bite me, bitch," I hissed at her before I looked at Rachel. "I'm sorry. I promise that I'll get you out of this."

She nodded as much as she could with a demon at her throat. "That would be nice."

The dracaenae prodded me toward the doorway at javelin-point, and I walked out onto the floor of an arena.

***  
It wasn't the largest arena I'd ever been in, but it seemed pretty spacious considering the whole place was underground. The dirt floor was circular, just big enough that you could drive a car around the rim if you pulled it really tight. In the centre of the arena, a fight was going on between a giant and a centaur. The centaur looked panicked. He was galloping around his enemy, using sword and shield, while the giant swung a javelin the size of a telephone pole and the crowd cheered.

The first tier of seats was twelve feet above the arena floor. Plain stone benches wrapped all the way around, and every seat was full. There were giants, dracaenae, demigods, telekhines, and stranger things: bat-winged demons and creatures that seemed half-human and half you name it—bird, reptile, insect, mammal. It made my skin crawl.

But the creepiest things were the skulls. The arena was full of them. They ringed the edge of the railing. Three-foot-high piles of them decorated the steps between the benches. They grinned from pikes at the back of the stands and hung on chains from the ceiling like horrible chandeliers. Some of them looked very old—nothing but bleached-white bone. Others looked a lot fresher. I'm not going to describe them. Believe me, you don't want me to.

In the middle of all this, proudly displayed on the side of the spectator's wall, was something that made no sense to me—a green banner with the trident of Poseidon in the centre. What was that doing in a horrible place like this?

Above the banner, sitting in a seat of honour, was an old enemy.

"Ethan," I spat.

I'm not sure he could hear me over the roar of the crowd, but he smiled coldly. He was wearing camouflage pants, a white T-shirt, and bronze breastplate, just like I'd seen in my dream. But he still wasn't wearing his sword, which I thought was strange. Annabeth was nowhere to be seen.

Next to him sat the largest giant I'd ever seen, much larger than the one on the floor fighting the centaur. The giant next to Ethan must've been fifteen feet tall, easy, and so wide he took up three seats. He wore only a loincloth, like a sumo wrestler. His skin was dark red and tattooed with blue wave designs. I figured he must be Ethan's new bodyguard or something.

There was a cry from the arena floor, and I jumped back as the centaur crashed to the dirt beside me.

He met my eyes pleadingly. "Help!"

I reached for my sword, but it had been taken from me and hadn't reappeared in my hair yet.

The centaur struggled to get up as the giant approached, his javelin ready.

A taloned hand gripped my shoulder. "If you value your friendsss' livesss," my dracaena guard said, "you won't interfere. This isssn't your fight. Wait your turn."

The centaur couldn't get up. One of his legs was broken. The giant put his huge foot on the horseman's chest and raised the javelin. He looked up at Ethan. The crowd cheered, "DEATH! DEATH!"

Ethan didn't do anything, but the tattooed sumo dude sitting next to him arose. He smiled down at the centaur, who was whimpering, "Please! No!"

Then the sumo dude held out his hand and gave the thumbs down sign.

I mouthed an apology as the gladiator giant thrust his javelin. A second later, the centaur was gone, disintegrated to ashes. All that was left was a single hoof, which the giant took up as a trophy and showed the crowd. They roared their approval. My stomach churned in a mixture of guilt and disgust.

A gate opened at the opposite end of the stadium and the giant marched out in triumph.

In the stands, the sumo dude raised his hands for silence.

"Good entertainment!" he bellowed. "But nothing I haven't seen before. What else do you have, Ethan, Son of Nemesis?"

I blinked in surprise. As far as I knew, Ethan had been unclaimed. But he didn't twitch at the title, instead rising calmly to his feet. His eyes glittered. In fact, he seemed to be in a pretty good mood. And whatever was putting Ethan Nakamura in a good mood had to be bad.

"Lord Antaeus," Ethan called, loud enough for the crowd to hear. "You have been an excellent host! We would be happy to amuse you, to repay the favour of passing through your territory."

"A favour I have not yet granted," Antaeus growled. "I want entertainment!"

Ethan bowed. "I believe I have something better than centaurs to fight in your arena now. I have a sister of yours." He pointed at me. "Ana Jackson, daughter of Poseidon."

The crowd began jeering at me and throwing stones, most of which I dodged, but one caught me on the cheek and made a good-sized cut.

Antaeus's eyes lit up. "A daughter of Poseidon? The first mortal one at that. Then she should fight well! Or die well!"

"If her death pleases you," Ethan said, "will you let our armies cross your territory?"

"Perhaps!" Antaeus said.

Ethan didn't look too pleased about the "perhaps." He glared down at me, as if warning me that I'd better die in a really spectacular way or I'd be in big trouble.

I smiled back at him sharply, silently vowing to escape, purely to piss him off.

"First, Ana Jackson, what weapons will you choose?"

The dracaenae pushed me into the middle of the arena.

I stared up at Antaeus. "How can you be a son of Poseidon?"

"I am his favourite son!" Antaeus boomed. "Behold, my temple to the Earthshaker, built from the skulls of all those I've killed in his name! Your skull shall join them!"

I stared in horror at all the skulls—hundreds of them—and the banner of Poseidon. How could this be a temple for my father? Sure, I didn't particularly like him, but this wasn't the sort of thing I could reconcile with what I knew of him.

"Ana!" Luke yelled at me. "His mother is Gaea! Gae—"

Her Laistrygonian captor clamped his hand over Luke's mouth. His mother is Gaea. The earth goddess. Luke was trying to tell me that was important, but I didn't know why. Maybe just because the guy had two godly parents. That would make him even harder to kill.

"You're crazy, Antaeus," I announced. "If you think this is a good tribute, you know nothing about Poseidon."

The crowd screamed insults at me, but Antaeus raised his hand for silence.

"Weapons," he insisted. "And then we will see how you die. Will you have axes? Shields? Nets? Flamethrowers?"

"Just my sword," I answered calmly.

Laughter erupted from the monsters, but immediately Anaklusmos appeared in my hands, and some of the voices in the crowd turned nervous. The bronze blade glowed with a faint light.

"Round one!" Antaeus announced. The gates opened, and a dracaena slithered out. She had a trident in one hand and a weighted net in the other— classic gladiator style. I'd trained against those weapons at camp for years.

She jabbed at me experimentally. I stepped away. She threw her net, hoping to tangle my sword hand, but I sidestepped easily, sliced her spear in half, and stabbed Anaklusmos through a chink in her armour. With a painful wail, she vaporized into nothing, and the cheering of the crowd died.

"No!" Antaeus bellowed. "Too fast! You must wait for the kill. Only I give that order!"

I glanced over at Luke and Rachel. I had to find a way to get them free, maybe distract their guards.

"Nice job, Ana." Ethan smirked. "You improve every time I see you. I'll grant you that much at least."

"Oh, thanks," I snorted. "I live in hope of gaining the approval of a murdering traitor." His expression darkened, but he didn't get the chance to reply.

"Round two!" Antaeus yelled. "And slower this time! More entertainment! Wait for my call before killing anybody. OR ELSE!"

"No powers either," Ethan added. "That's cheating."

I rolled my eyes at that. It really amazed me that people were concerned about things like honour during battles for your life, it really did. And he had no room to talk, considering his habit of capturing me and holding my friends as hostages. How was that not cheating? Asshole.

The gates opened again, and this time a young warrior came out. He was tall, around my age with brown hair, and green eyes with bags underneath them. His face was freckled and his body had a lanky build. His armour had protective runes on it. From that and his features, I guessed that he was a son of Hecate, and felt a sudden jolt of relief that we couldn't use powers, otherwise this could get very messy. Magic-wielders were dangerous.

He stabbed his sword into the dirt, adjusted his shield straps, and pulled on his horsehair helmet.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Alabaster Torrington," he responded. "I have to kill you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Hey!" a monster jeered from the stands. "Stop talking and fight already!" The others took up the call.

"I have to prove myself," Torrington informed me. "Only way to join up."

I was about to ask why he'd even want to join, but I didn't get the chance as he charged at me. Our swords met in mid-air and the crowd roared. It didn't seem right. I didn't want to fight to entertain a bunch of monsters, but Alabaster Torrington wasn't giving me much choice.

He pressed forward. He was good. He'd never been at Camp Half-Blood, as far as I knew, but he'd certainly been trained, and trained well. He parried my strike and almost slammed me with his shield, but I jumped back. He slashed. I rolled to one side. We exchanged thrusts and parries, getting a feel for each other's fighting style.

"Blood!" the monsters cried.

My opponent glanced up at the stands. That was his weakness, I realized. He needed to impress them. I didn't.

He yelled an angry battle cry and charged me, but I parried his blade and backed away, letting him come after me.

"Boo!" Antaeus cried. "Stand and fight!"

Alabaster pressed me, but I had no trouble defending, even without a shield. He was dressed for defence—heavy armour and shield—which made it very tiring to play offense. I was a softer target, but I also was lighter and faster. And just plain better, arrogant as it was to say so. Still, he was holding his ground, and I was still a bit weak from my recent injuries.

The crowd was going nuts, yelling complaints and throwing rocks. We'd been fighting for almost five minutes and there was no blood.

Finally, Torrington made his mistake. He tried to jab at my stomach, and I locked his sword hilt in mine and twisted. His sword dropped into the dirt. Before he could recover, I slammed the butt of my sword into his helmet and pushed him down. His heavy armour helped me more than him. He fell on his back, dazed and tired. I put the tip of my sword against his throat.

"Get it over with," Torrington groaned.

I looked up at Antaeus. His red face was stony with displeasure, but he held up his hand and put it thumbs down.

"Forget it." I sheathed my sword. It was probably stupid, but I refused to yield on my principles.

"Don't be a fool," Alabaster groaned. "They'll just kill us both."

"They're gonna kill me anyway," I scoffed, offering him my hand. Reluctantly, he took it. I helped him up.

"No one dishonours the games!" Antaeus bellowed. "Your heads shall both be tributes to Poseidon!"

I looked at Alabaster. "When you see your chance, run." I'd done what I could for him, now I had to save my friends.

I turned back to Antaeus. "Why don't you fight me yourself? If you've got Father's favour, come down here and prove it!"

The monsters grumbled in the stands. Antaeus looked around, and apparently realized he had no choice. He couldn't say no without looking like a coward.

"I am the greatest wrestler in the world, girl," he warned. "I have been wrestling since the first pankration!"

"Pankration?" I repeated blankly.

"He means fighting to the death," Ethan informed me from his seat, a pleased expression on his face that pissed me off. "No rules. No holds barred. It used to be an Olympic sport."

"Thanks for the tip," I said sarcastically.

"Don't mention it."

Rachel was watching me with wide eyes. Luke shook his head urgently, the Laistrygonian's hand still clamped over his mouth.

I pointed my sword at Antaeus. "Winner takes all! I win, we all go free. You win, we die. Swear upon the River Styx."

Antaeus laughed. "This shouldn't take long. I swear to your terms!"

He leaped off the railing, into the arena.

Antaeus cracked his knuckles. He grinned, and I saw that even his teeth were etched in wave patterns, which must've made brushing after meals a real pain.

"Weapons?" he asked.

"I'll stick with my sword. You?"

He held up his huge hands and wiggled his fingers. "I don't need anything else! Master Ethan, you will referee this one."

Ethan smiled down at me sinisterly. "With pleasure."

Without a moment's pause, Antaeus lunged. I rolled under his legs and stabbed him in the back of the thigh.

"Argggh!" he yelled. But where blood (or maybe ichor in this case) should've come out, there was a spout of sand, like I'd busted the side of an hourglass. It spilled into the dirt floor, and the dirt collected around his leg, almost like a cast. When the dirt fell away, the wound was gone.

He charged again. Fortunately I'd had some experience fighting giants. I dodged sideways this time and stabbed him under the arm. Anaklusmos' blade was buried to the hilt in his ribs. That was the good news. The bad news was that it was wrenched out of my hand when the giant turned, and I was thrown across the arena, weaponless.

Antaeus bellowed in pain. I waited for him to disintegrate. No monster had ever withstood a direct hit from my sword like that. The celestial bronze blade had to be destroying his essence. But Antaeus groped for the hilt, pulled out the sword, and tossed it behind him. More sand poured from the wound, but again the earth rose up to cover him. Dirt coated his body all the way to his shoulders. As soon as the dirt spilled away, Antaeus was fine.

"Now you see why I never lose, demigod!" Antaeus gloated. "Come here and let me crush you. I'll make it quick!"

Antaeus stood between me and my sword. Desperately, I glanced to either side, and I caught Luke's eye. His eyes were screaming at me, trying to remind me of something.

The earth, I thought. What had Luke been trying to tell me? Antaeus' mother was Gaea the earth mother, the most ancient goddess of all. Antaeus' father might have been Poseidon, but Gaea was keeping him alive. I couldn't hurt him as long as he was touching the ground, just like water instantly healed my wounds.

I tried to skirt around him, but Antaeus anticipated my move. He blocked my path, chuckling. He was just toying with me now. He had me cornered.

I looked up at the chains hanging from the ceiling, dangling the skulls of his enemies on hooks. Suddenly I had an idea. My best plans always came in the heat of battle.

I feinted to the other side. Antaeus blocked me. The crowd jeered and screamed at Antaeus to finish me off, but he was having too much fun.

"Puny girl," he sneered. "Not a worthy child of the sea god!"

I felt my pin return to my hair, but Antaeus wouldn't know about that, and didn't seem to have noticed it. Hopefully, he still thought Anaklusmos was still in the dirt behind him. He would think my goal was to get my sword. It wasn't much of an advantage, but it was all I had.

I charged straight ahead, crouching low so he would think I was going to roll between his legs again. While he was stooping, ready to catch me like a grounder, I jumped for all I was worth—kicking off his forearm, scrambling up his shoulder like it was a ladder, placing my shoe on his head. He did the natural thing. He straightened up indignantly and yelled "HEY!" I pushed off, using his force to catapult me toward the ceiling. I caught the top of a chain, and the skulls and hooks jangled beneath me. I wrapped my legs around the chain, just like I did at the ropes course at Camp. Then I summoned Anaklusmos and sawed off the chain next to me.

"Come down here, coward!" Antaeus bellowed. He tried to grab me, but I was just out of reach.

Hanging on for dear life, I yelled back at him. "Come up and get me! Or are you too slow and fat?"

He howled and made another grab for me. He caught a chain and tried to pull himself up. While he was struggling, I lowered my sawed-off chain, hook first. It took me two tries, but finally I snagged Antaeus' loincloth.

"WAAA!" he yelled. Quickly I slipped the free chain through the fastening link on my own chain, pulled it taut, and secured it the best I could. Antaeus tried to slip back to the ground, but his but stayed suspended by his loincloth. He had to hold on to the other chains with both hands to avoid getting flipped upside down. I prayed the loincloth and the chain would hold up for a few more seconds. While Antaeus cursed and flailed, I scrambled around the chains, swinging and cutting like I was some sort of crazed monkey. I made loops with hooks and metal links.

I don't know how I did it. I guess that I was just desperate to save my friends.

Anyway, within a couple of minutes the giant was suspended above the ground, hopelessly snarled in chains and hooks. I dropped to the floor, panting and sweaty. My hands were raw from climbing.

"Get me down!" Antaeus demanded.

"Free him!" Ethan ordered. "He is our host!"

"I'd be delighted," I beamed, giving a mocking bow.

Then I stabbed the giant in the stomach. He bellowed, and sand poured out, but he was too far up to touch the earth, and the dirt didn't rise to help him. Antaeus just dissolved, pouring out bit by bit, until there was nothing left but empty swinging chains, a really big loincloth on a hook, and a bunch of grinning skulls dancing above me like they had finally had something to celebrate.

"Jackson!" Ethan yelled furiously. "I should have killed you long ago!"

"As I recall, you tried," I reminded him. "Several times. Let us go, Nakamura. We had a sworn agreement with Antaeus. I'm the winner."

He did just what I had expected him to do.

"Antaeus is dead," he snapped. "His oath dies with him. But since I'm feeling merciful today, I'll have you killed quickly."

Every monster in the audience drew a weapon or extended its' claws. We were trapped. Hopelessly outnumbered, with no water sources around to help me. I clenched my jaw, scanning the arena for a solution. There had to be one.

Then I felt something in my pocket—a freezing sensation, growing colder and colder. The dog whistle. My fingers closed around it. For days I'd avoided using Quintus' gift. It had to be a trap. But now…I had no choice. I took it out of my pocket and blew. It made no audible sound as it shattered into shards of ice, melting in my hand.

Ethan laughed. "What was that supposed to do?"

From behind me came a surprised yelp. The Laistrygonian giant who'd been guarding Luke flew past me and smashed into the wall.

"AROOOOF!"

Kelli the empousa screamed as a five-hundred-pound black mastiff picked her up like a chew toy and tossed her through the air, straight into Nakamura's lap. Mrs. O'Leary snarled, and the two dracaenae guards backed away. For a moment the monsters in the audience were caught completely by surprise.

"Let's go!" I yelled at my friends. "Heel, Mrs. O'Leary!"

"The far exit!" Rachel cried. "That's the right way!"

Alabaster Torrington took his cue. Together we raced across the arena and out the far exit, Mrs. O'Leary right behind us. As we ran, I could hear the disorganized sounds of an entire army trying to jump out of the stands and follow us.


	15. Daedalus the Fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The questers finally reach Daedalus' workshop.

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Daedalus the Fifth**

"This way!" Rachel yelled.

"Are you sure?" I asked as we sprinted after her.

Rachel nodded. "You needed to go through there, and this is where you need to go now," she insisted.

Despite my worries, Rachel seemed to know exactly where she was going. She whipped around corners and didn't even hesitate at crossroads. Once she said, "Duck!" and we all crouched as a huge axe swung over our heads. Then we kept going as if nothing had happened.

Of course, that sort of thing is every day for a half-blood, but Rachel's collected demeanour impressed me. And I could tell, from the grudging respect on Luke's face, that he was impressed as well.

I lost track of how many turns we made. We didn't stop to rest until we came to a room the size of a gymnasium with old marble columns holding up the roof. I stood at the doorway, listening for sounds of pursuit, but I heard nothing. Apparently we'd lost Ethan and his minions in the maze. I didn't dare to comment on it aloud, in case I jinxed our small stroke of luck.

Then I realized something else: Mrs. O'Leary was gone. I didn't know when she'd disappeared. I didn't know of she'd gotten lost or been overrun by monsters or what. My heart turned to lead. She'd saved our lives, and I hadn't even waited to make sure she was following us. What kind of selfish bitch am I? Gods, please, let her be okay, I prayed silently. Please.

Alabaster collapsed on the floor. "You people are crazy." He pulled off his helmet. His face gleamed with sweat.

Luke's eyes went wide in recognition. "I remember you! You were one of the undetermined kids in my cabin, years ago. You never came back after your first summer at Camp."

He glared at him. "Yeah, and you're Luke, cabin leader. I remember."

"You must be the half-blood from my dream," I stated, hoping my relief wasn't showing on my face. "The one the Titans cornered. It wasn't Nico after all."

"Who's Nico?"

"Never mind," Luke quickly dismissed it. Neither of us wanted to risk mentioning the young son of Hades. "Why were you trying to join up with the wrong side?"

Alabaster sneered. "There's no right side. The gods never cared about us. Why shouldn't I—"

"Sign up with an army that makes you fight to the death for entertainment?" I scoffed. "Gee, I wonder."

Alabaster struggled to his feet. "I'm not going to argue with you. Thanks for the help, but I'm out of here."

"We're going after Daedalus," I informed him. "Come with us. Once we get through, you'd be welcome back at camp."

"You really are crazy if you think Daedalus will help you."

"We'll make him listen," Luke insisted stubbornly.

At swordpoint if necessary, I mentally added. I wouldn't like it, but if I had to threaten a kinslayer to save Camp Half-Blood and my friends, then so be it.

Alabaster snorted. "Yeah, well. Good luck with that."

I grabbed his arm to stop him. "You're just going to head off alone into the maze? That's suicide. You'll go insane. Literally, people have gone crazy wandering this thing on their own."

He looked at me with barely controlled anger. "You shouldn't have spared me, Jackson. Mercy has no place in this war."

Then he ran off into the darkness, back the way we'd come.

Luke, Rachel, and I were so exhausted we made camp right there in the huge room. I found some scrap wood and we started a fire. Shadows danced off the columns rising around us like trees.

"Something was off with Ethan," Luke muttered, poking at the fire with the tip of Halcyon. "Did you notice the way he was acting?"

"He looked pretty pleased to me," I said bitterly. "Like he'd spent a nice day torturing heroes."

I'd hated Ethan Nakamura and Annabeth Chase on principal before my capture. They'd betrayed Camp Half-Blood and were trying to destroy Western Civilization, after all. Luke had been devastated beneath his angry façade. Was still griefstricken. After their cruelty while I was being held captive, however, my hatred had deepened to loathing, turning personal. I despised them both.

"No, there was something off," Luke insisted. "He kept shifting and tapping the armrest. Like he was nervous. And Anna- and Chase wasn't there. Where was she?"

I shrugged, scowling and jabbing at the floor with my knife. "I suppose that it's too much to hope for that she fell down into Tartarus," I grumbled. I felt a jab of guilt at the pain and regret that flashed across Luke's expression, and I reached out to squeeze his hand.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure we'll find out, and sincerely regret it afterwards," I murmured to him. He gave me a dry smile and nodded.

I turned to Rachel. "You doing alright?" I asked her.

Rachel didn't respond right away. She'd become quieter since the arena, barely responding to either of us. She'd burned the tip of a stick in the fire and was using it to draw ash figures on the floor, images of the monsters we'd seen. With a few strokes, she caught the likeness of a dracaena perfectly.

"I'm fine," she muttered after a second.

I bit my lip, glancing helplessly at Luke.

"You're holding up really well," he complimented her, his tone gentler than he'd ever been with her.

She gave a strained smile and shrugged.

"Which way do we go next?" I asked when the silence got too tense for me.

"We'll follow the path," she replied. "The brightness on the floor."

I still couldn't see any brightness when I looked, but my ability to see through the Mist had always been hit-or-miss, anyway.

I bit my lip before telling her, "Look, I'm sorry I got you involved in this."

"No, you were right," she said. "I can see the path. I can't explain it, but it's really clear." She pointed toward the other end of the room, into the darkness. "The workshop is that way. The heart of the maze. We're very close now. I don't know why the path led through that arena. I—I'm sorry about that. I thought you were going to die."

She sounded like she was close to crying.

"Hey, we're usually about to die," Luke promised, giving a roguish grin. "Comes with the territory. Don't feel bad."

She studied our faces. "So you do this every summer? Fight monsters? Save the world? Don't you ever get to do just, you know, normal stuff?"

I'd never really thought about it like that. The last time I'd had something like a normal life had been…well, never. When Mom was alive, I'd had to deal with my abusive, drunken stepfather. After her death, strange 'accidents', that I now knew were my powers or monsters, caused me to hop between the streets, my beach cabin at Montauk, and various foster families. Normality wasn't my forte.

"We get used to it, I guess. Or maybe not used to it, but…" I shifted uncomfortably, crossing my arms defensively. Luke was polishing Halcyon, his jaw tight. "What about you? What do you do normally?"

Rachel shrugged. "I paint. I read a lot."

"What about your family?" Luke asked, his tone telling me that he was pretending to be casual, but was really searching for something. I shot him a warning look that he ignored.

I could sense her mental shields going up, announcing that this was not a safe subject. "Oh…they're just, you know, family."

"You said they wouldn't notice if you were gone," he pressed.

"Luke!" I hissed at him, glaring. There was no need to be insensitive, especially when Rachel was helping us, risking her life for no benefit. He was being an asshole.

Rachel set down her drawing stick. "Wow, I'm really tired. I may sleep for a while, okay?"

"Sure," I told her quietly. "I really am sorry, Rachel."

She didn't answer, lying down and using her jacket as a pillow.

I glared at Luke, who had a sullen expression on his face.

"Take first watch," I ordered him. Why in the name of Hades was he being such an asshole all of a sudden.

"Fine," he agreed, still moody.

I rolled my eyes, cursed the entire male gender, and lay down, bracing myself for unpleasant visions to assault me again.

***  
As anticipated, in my dreams I heard laughter. Cold, harsh laughter, like knives being sharpened.

I was standing at the edge of a pit in the depths of Tartarus. Below me the darkness seethed like inky soup.

"So close to your own destruction, little heroine," the voice of Kronos chided me. "And still you are blind."

The voice was different than it had been before. It seemed almost physical now, as if it were speaking from a real body instead of…whatever he'd been in his chopped-up condition. The thought made me shudder in horrified fear and disgust.

"I have much to thank you for," Kronos told me. "You have assured my rise."

The shadows in the cavern became deeper and heavier. I tried to back away from the edge of the pit, but it was like swimming through oil. Time slowed down. My breathing almost stopped, as if my lungs had stopped working.

"A favour," Kronos said. "The Titan lord always pays his debts. Perhaps a glimpse of the friends you abandoned…"

The darkness rippled around me, and I was in a different cave.

"Hurry!" Tyson cried. He came barrelling into the room. Grover stumbled along behind him. There was a rumbling in the corridor they'd come from, and the head of an enormous snake burst into the cave. I mean, this thing was so big its' body barely fit through the tunnel. Its' scales were coppery. Its' head was diamond-shaped like a rattler, and its' yellow eyes glowed with hatred. When it opened its' mouth, its' fangs were as tall as Tyson.

It lashed at Grover, but he scampered out of the way. The snake got a mouthful of dirt. Tyson picked up a boulder and threw it at the monster, smacking it between the eyes, but the snake just recoiled and hissed.

"It's going to eat you!" Grover yelled at Tyson.

"How do you know?"

"It just told me! Run!"

Tyson darted to one side, but the snake used its' head like a club and knocked him off his feet.

"No!" Grover yelled. But before Tyson could regain his balance, the snake wrapped around him and started to squeeze.

Tyson strained, pushing with all his immense strength, but the snake just squeezed him tighter. Grover frantically hit the snake with his reed pipes, but he might as well have been banging on a stone wall.

The whole room shook as the snake flexed its' muscles, shuddering to overcome Tyson's strength.

Grover began to play with pipes, and stalactites rained down from the ceiling. The whole cave seemed about to collapse…

***  
I woke to Luke shaking my shoulder. "Ana, wake up! Now!"

"Tyson—Tyson's in trouble!" I exclaimed breathlessly. "We have to help him!"

"First things first," he snapped, the worry lines on his forehead deepening at my words. "Earthquake!"

Sure enough, the room was rumbling. "Rachel!" I yelled.

Her eyes snapped open instantly. She grabbed her pack, and the three of us ran. We were almost to the far tunnel when a column next to us groaned and buckled. We kept going as a hundred tons of marble crashed down behind us.

We made it to the corridor and turned just in time to see the other columns toppling. A cloud of white dust billowed over us, and we kept running.

"You know what?" Luke said, casual as you please. "I like this way a lot. This is my favourite way, of all ways."

I reached out and smacked his arm as we continued to sprint.

It wasn't long before we saw light up ahead—like regular electric lighting.

"There," Rachel called, pointing to it.

We followed her into a stainless-steel hallway, like I imagined they'd have on a space station or something. Fluorescent lights glowed from the ceiling. The floor was a metal grate.

I was so used to being in the darkness that I had to squint. Luke and Rachel both looked pale in the harsh illumination.

"This way," Rachel said, beginning to run again. "We're close!"

"How close is-?" Luke began to ask, only to fall silent a moment later.

We had arrived at a set of metal double doors. Inscribed in the steel, at eye level, was a large blue Greek Δ.

"Very," I muttered under my breath, clutching my sword pommel tightly.

"We're here," Rachel announced. "Daedalus' workshop."

***  
Luke pressed the symbol on the doors and they hissed open.

"I bet the asshole updated his workshop just to piss us off," I complained quietly to him. "He knew that we'd assume it'd be in the logical place: the oldest part of the maze, so he modernized it to be petty." I believed it, too.

"It's a possibility," Luke agreed genuinely, just as cynical about the nature of immortals and mortals as I was. Together we walked inside.

The first thing that struck me was the daylight—blazing sun coming through giant windows. Not the kind of thing you expect in the heart of a dungeon. The workshop was like an artist's studio, with thirty-foot ceilings and industrial lighting, polished stone floors, and workbenches along with windows. A spiral staircase led up to a second-story loft. Half a dozen easels displayed hand-drawn diagrams for buildings and machines that looked like Leonardo da Vinci sketches. Several laptop computers were scattered around on the tables. Glass jars of green oil—Greek fire—lined one shelf.

There were inventions, too—weird metal machines I couldn't make sense of. One was a bronze chair with a bunch of electrical wires attached to it, like some kind of torture device. In another corner stood a giant metal egg about the size of a man. There was a grandfather clock that appeared to be made entirely of glass, so you could see all the gears turning. And hanging on the wall were several sets of bronze and silver wings.

I had to hand it to the old man: he had talent.

"Di immortals," Luke muttered, a reluctantly impressed expression on his face. He went to the nearest easel and looked at the sketch. "I gotta admit it: he's a genius. Look at this thing!"

"And an artist," Rachel added in amazement. "These wings are amazing!"

The wings looked more advanced than the ones I'd seen in my dreams. The feathers were more tightly interwoven. Instead of wax seals, self-adhesive strips ran down the sides.

I kept my hand on Anaklusmos. Apparently Daedalus was not at home, but the workshop looked like it had been recently used. The laptops were running their screen savers. A half-eaten blueberry muffin and a coffee cup sat on a workbench. Had he heard us coming and fled? Or was he hiding in an adjoining room?

I walked to the window. The view outside was amazing. I recognized the Rocky Mountains in the distance. We were high up in the foothills, at least five hundred feet, and down below a valley spread out, filled with a tumbled collection of red mesas and boulders and spires of stone. It looked like some huge kid had been building a toy city with skyscraper-size blocks, and then decided to knock it over.

"Where are we?" I wondered. "Colorado obviously, but where?"

"Colorado Springs," A voice said behind us. "The Garden of the Gods."

Luke and I spun, Luke standing protectively in front of Rachel as we both raised our swords defensively. My eyes widened in surprise when I spotted the speaker.

Standing on the spiral staircase above us, with his weapon drawn, was our missing sword master Quintus.

"You," Luke practically spat. "What have you done with Daedalus?"

Quintus smiled faintly. "Trust me, my dear. You don't want to meet him."

"Look,  _Traitor_ ," he growled, "I didn't fight a dragon woman and a three-bodied man and a psychotic Sphinx to see  _you_. Now where is DAEDALUS?"

Quintus came down the stairs, holding his sword at his side. He was dressed in jeans and boots and his counsellor's T-shirt from Camp Half-Blood, which seemed like an insult now that we knew he was a spy. I didn't know if I could beat him in a sword fight. He was pretty good. But I figured that I'd have to try. Luke and I could probably manage it together, but there was Rachel. She wasn't trained, and we were obligated to protect her. Quintus could use her against us.

"You think I'm an agent of Kronos," he stated. "That I work for Ethan and Annabeth."

"Well, duh," Luke drawled.

"You're both very intelligent," he answered. "But you're wrong. I work only for myself."

"'Cause being a mercenary is so much better," Luke sneered.

"Ethan mentioned you," I added, glaring at him disdainfully. "Geryon knew about you, too. You've been to his ranch."

"Of course," he admitted shamelessly. "I've been almost everywhere. Even here."

He walked past me like I was no threat at all and stood by the window. "The view changes from day to day," he mused. "It's always some place high up. Yesterday it was from a skyscraper overlooking Manhattan. The day before that, there was a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. But it keeps coming back to the Garden of the Gods. I think the Labyrinth likes it here. A fitting name, I suppose."

"You've been here before," I stated, narrowing my eyes. Something was niggling at me, but I couldn't think of it.

"Oh, yes."

"Is that an illusion out there?" I asked. "A projection or something?"

"No," Rachel murmured. "It's real. We're really in Colorado."

Quintus regarded her. "You have clear vision, don't you? you remind me of another mortal girl I once knew. Another princess who came to grief."

"Enough games," I said. "What have you done with Daedalus?"

Quintus stared at me. "My girl, you need lessons from your friend on seeing clearly. I am Daedalus."

***  
There were a lot of answers I might've given, from "son of a bitch" to "LIAR!" to "Yeah right, and I'm a goddess."

The only thing I could think to say was, "But you're not an inventor! You're a swordsman!" It was possibly, I admit, one of the stupidest things I ever said in my entire lifetime without suffering from a concussion or bloodloss.

"I am both," Quintus declared. "And an architect. And a scholar. I also play basketball pretty well for a guy who didn't start until he was two thousand years old. A real artist must be good at many things."

"That's true," Rachel agreed. "Like I can paint with my feet as well as my hands."

"You see?" Quintus said, gesturing towards her. "A girl of many talents."

"But you don't even look like Daedalus," I protested. "I saw him in a bunch of dreams, and…" Suddenly the niggling feeling turned into a horrific realization. I could feel the colour drain out of my face, and I recoiled in utter disgust.

"Yes," Quintus said. "You've finally guessed the truth."

"You're an automaton. You made yourself a new body."

"Ana," Luke said uneasily, "that's not possible. That—that can't be an automaton. I mean, we've seen automatons. He can't be."

Quintus chuckled. "Do you know what Quintus means, my boy?"

"It's Latin for fifth. But—"

"This is my fifth body." The swordsman held out his forearm. He pressed his elbow and part of his wrist popped open—a rectangular hatch in his skin. Underneath, bronze gears whirred. Wires glowed.

"That's amazing!" Rachel exclaimed.

"That's awful," I snapped. "You're a godsdamned abomination!"

"You found a way to transfer your animus into a machine?" Luke confirmed, looking as ill as I felt. "That's…not natural."

" _He_  didn't figure it out," I sneered. "His nephew did, and then Daedalus murdered him." Luke sucked in a sharp breath, and Rachel's eyes went as wide as saucers. There were few crimes more heinous than kinslaying, even for mortals.

Daedalus briefly looked regretful. "I lost my temper," he acknowledged. "An act that I sincerely regret."

"I'm sure that Perdix and his mother regretted it too," I bit out sharply, aiming the words like daggers at him. To my dark satisfaction, he flinched slightly.

Quintus gazed out the windows at the purple mountains. "Whether you believe it or not, I do regret what I did, Ana. I was angry and bitter. But I cannot take it back, and Athena never lets me forget. As Perdix died, she turned him into a small bird—a partridge. She branded the bird's shape on my neck as a reminder. No matter what body I take, the brand appears on my skin."

I looked into his eyes, and I realized he was the same man I'd seen in my dreams. His face might be totally different, but the same soul was in there— the same intelligence and all the sadness.

"You really are Daedalus," I decided. "But why did you come to the camp? Why spy on us?"

"To see if your camp was worth saving. Ethan and Annabeth had given me one story. I preferred to come to my own conclusions."

"So you  _have_  talked to them."

"Oh, yes. Several times. They are both quite persuasive."

"But now you've seen the camp!" Luke begged. "So you know that we need your help. You can't let the Titans through the maze!" I understood why he was so desperate. Camp Half-Blood was our home, the only place that we were safe. All of our friends and family were there. If the Titans destroyed it, we'd lose far more than our lives.

Daedalus set his sword on the workbench. "The maze is no longer mine to control, Luke. I created it, yes. In fact, it is tied to my life force. But I have allowed it to live and grow on its own. That is the price I paid for privacy."

"Privacy from what?"

"The gods," he said. "And death. I have been alive for two millennia, my dear, hiding from death."

"But how can you hide from Thanatos?" I asked, naming the personification of Death. "I mean, he serves Hades, and Hades has the Furies."

"They do not know everything," he said. "Or see everything. You have encountered them, Ana. You know this is true. A clever man can hide quite a long time, and I have buried myself very deep. Only my greatest enemy has kept after me, and even him I have thwarted."

"You mean Minos," I stated.

Daedalus nodded. "He hunts for me relentlessly. Now that he is a judge of the dead, he would like nothing better than for me to come before him so he can punish me for my crimes. After the daughters of Cocalus killed him, Minos' ghost began torturing me in my dreams. He promised that he would hunt me down. I did the only thing I could. I retreated from the world completely. I descended into my Labyrinth. I decided this would be my ultimate accomplishment: I would cheat death."

"And you did," Luke sounded a mixture of disgusted and impressed as he spoke, "for two thousand years."

Just then a loud bark echoed from the corridor. I heard the ba-BUMP, ba-BUMP, ba-BUMP of huge paws, and Mrs. O'Leary bounded into the workshop. She licked my face once, then almost knocked Daedalus over with an enthusiastic leap.

"There is my old friend!" Daedalus said, scratching Mrs. O'Leary behind the ears. "My only companion all these long lonely years."

"You let her save me," I said, cocking my head and running my thumb over Anaklusmos. "That whistle actually worked."

Daedalus nodded. "Of course it did, Ana. You have a good heart. And I knew Mrs. O'Leary liked you. I wanted to help you. Perhaps I—I felt guilty, as well."

My heart sank in dismay. "Guilty about what?"

"That your quest would be in vain."

"What?" Luke demanded, looking stricken. "But you can still help us. You have to! Give us Ariadne's string so Ethan and Annabeth can't get it."

"Yes…the string. I told them that the eyes of a clear-sighted mortal are the best guide, but they did not trust me. They were too focused on the idea of a magic item. And the string works. It's not as accurate as your mortal friend here, perhaps. But good enough. Good enough."

"Where is it?" I asked, knowing the answer already. From the sheer anguish on Luke's face, so did he.

"With the Titans," Daedalus told us sadly. "I'm sorry, my dear. But you are several hours too late."

With a chill I realized why Ethan had been in such a good mood in the arena. He'd already gotten the string from Daedalus. His only obstacle had been the arena master, and I'd taken care of that for him by killing Antaeus. They were probably marching for Camp Half-Blood as we spoke.

"Kronos promised me freedom," Quintus explained, as if his 'freedom' was more important than the lives of everybody in Camp. Gods, Apollo's youngest child was three. Sola's mother had died in a car crash and Apollo had sent her to Camp only a few months ago. She was the youngest person in Camp. The thought of her sweet face, frozen in death, broke my heart.

"Once Hades is overthrown, he will set me over the Underworld. I will reclaim my son Icarus. I will make things right with poor young Perdix. I will see Minos' soul cast into Tartarus, where it cannot bother me again. And I will no longer have to run from death."

"You selfish, son of a bitch!" I snarled. "You're going to let the Titans destroy our camp, kill everyone there, and then attack Olympus? You're going to bring down the entire world so you can get what you want? You selfish bastard!"

"Your cause is doomed, my dear. I saw that as soon as I began to work at your camp. There is no way you can hold back the might of Kronos."

"Fuck you!" I cried. "At least we'll die doing the right, instead of surviving as Kronos' cowardly slave like you!"

"I am doing what I must, my dear. The offer was too sweet to refuse. I'm sorry."

"You're an idiot if you really believe they'll keep their word," I scoffed.

Luke punched him, though the gesture was useless against Daedalus' metal body, and I heard his knuckles break. "You're just a machine," Luke spat bitterly, his eyes navy with rage. "You should have died two thousand years ago."

Instead of getting mad, Daedalus hung his head. "You should go warn your camp. Now that Ethan and Annabeth have the string—"

Suddenly Mrs. O'Leary pricked up her ears.

"Someone's coming!" Rachel warned.

The doors of the workshop burst open, and Nico was pushed inside, his hands in chains. Then Kelli and two Laistrygonians marched in behind him, followed by the ghost of Minos. He looked almost solid now—a pale bearded king with cold eyes and tendrils of Mist coiling off his robes.

He fixed his gaze on Daedalus. "There you are, my old friend."

Daedalus' jaw clenched. He looked at Kelli. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Ethan sends his compliments," Kelli said. "He thought you might like to see your old employer Minos."

"I told you so," I hissed at the inventor, scanning Nico worriedly. Thank the gods, he didn't seem to have been hurt.

"This was not part of our agreement," Daedalus said, ignoring me.

"No indeed," Kelli said. "But we already have what we want from you, and we have other agreements to honour. Minos required something else from us, in order to turn over this fine young demigod." She ran a finger under Nico's chin. "He'll be quite useful. And all Minos asked in return was your head, old man."

Daedalus paled. "Treachery."

Duh. His inventing genius clearly didn't equal common sense. What kind of moron believed that the _Crooked One_ would ever keep an oath? Even Zeus, god of justice, didn't keep oaths made on the Styx itself. I repeat, naïve idiot.

"Get used to it," Kelli retorted.

"Nico," I called to him. "Are you okay?"

He nodded morosely. "I—I'm sorry, Ana. Minos told me you were in danger. He convinced me to go back into the maze."

"You were trying to help us?"

"I was tricked," he said. "He tricked all of us."

"Don't worry," I forced a smile at him. "Everything'll work out, I promise." Then I glared at Kelli. "Where're Annabeth and Ethan? Why aren't one of them here?"

The she-demon smiled like we were sharing a private joke. "Ethan is…busy, and Annabeth is helping him. They are preparing for the assault. But don't worry. We have more friends on the way. And in the meantime, I think I'll have a wonderful snack!" Her hands changed into claws. Her hair burst into flame and her legs turned to their true form—one donkey leg, one bronze.

"Ana," Rachel whispered, her voice barely audible even to me, "the wings. Do you think—"

"Get them," I ordered her quietly. "Luke and I'll try to buy you some time." Flying would be risky, especially for Nico and I, but we had little choice.

And with that, all Hades broke loose. Luke and I charged at Kelli. The giants came right at Daedalus, but Mrs. O'Leary leaped to his defence.

Nico got pushed to the ground and struggled with his chains while the spirit of Minos wailed, "Kill the inventor! Kill him!"

Rachel grabbed the wings off the wall. Nobody paid her any attention. Kelli slashed at Luke. I tried to get to her, but the demon was quick and deadly. She turned over tables, smashed inventions, and wouldn't let us get close. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. O'Leary chomp her fangs into a giant's arm. He wailed in pain and flung her around, trying to shake her. Daedalus grabbed for his sword, but the second giant smashed the workbench with his fist, and the sword went flying. A clay jar of Greek fire broke on the floor and began to burn, green flames spreading quickly.

"To me!" Minos cried. "Spirits of the dead!" He raised his ghostly hands and the air began to hum.

"No!" Nico cried. He was on his feet now. He'd somehow managed to remove his shackles.

"You do not control me, young fool," Minos sneered. "All this time, I have been controlling you! A soul for a soul, yes. But it is not your sister who will return from the dead. It is I, as soon as I slay the inventor!"

Spirits began to appear around Minos—shimmering forms that slowly multiplied, solidifying into Cretan soldiers.

"I am the son of Hades," Nico insisted. "Be gone!"

Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The ghost king!"

"No." Nico drew his sword. "I am."

He stabbed his black blade into the floor, and it cleaved through the stone like butter.

"Never!" Minos' form rippled. "I will not—"

The ground rumbled. The windows cracked and shattered to pieces, letting in a blast of fresh air. A fissure opened in the stone floor of the workshop, and Minos and all his spirits were sucked into the void with a horrible wail. That was the good news.

The bad news: the fight was still going on all around us, and I let myself get distracted. Kelli pounced on me so fast I had no time to defend myself. My sword skittered away and I hit my head hard on a worktable as I fell. My eyesight went fuzzy. I couldn't raise my arms.

Kelli laughed. "You will taste wonderful!"

She bared her fangs. Then suddenly her body went rigid. Her red eyes widened. She gasped, "No…school…spirit…"

And Luke yanked his sword out of the empousa's back. With an awful screech, Kelli dissolved into yellow vapor.

Luke quickly helped me up. I still felt dizzy, but we had no time to lose. Mrs. O'Leary and Daedalus were still locked in combat with the giants, and I could hear shouting in the tunnel. More monsters were coming toward the workshop.

"We have to help Daedalus!" I said.

"No time," Rachel replied. "Too many coming!"

She'd already fitted herself with wings and was working on Nico, who looked pale and sweaty from his struggle with Minos. The wings grafted instantly to his back and arms.

"Now you!" she told me.

In seconds, Nico, Luke, Rachel, and I had fitted ourselves with coppery wings. Already I could feel myself being lifted by the wind coming through the window. Greek fire was burning the tables and furniture, spreading up the circular stairs.

"Daedalus!" I yelled. "Come on!"

He was cut in a hundred places—but he was bleeding golden oil instead of blood. He'd found his sword and was using part of a smashed table as a shield against the giants. "I won't leave Mrs. O'Leary!" he declared. "Go!"

There was no time to argue. Even if we stayed, I wasn't sure we could help.

"None of us know how to fly!" Nico protested.

"Great time to find out," I retorted. And together, the four of us jumped out the window into open sky.


	16. The End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kronos rises

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. I had a plan for Annabeth, but then I couldn't make it work, so her part feels kind of half-hearted in this chapter. I'll try and fix it.**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**The End of the World Starts With A Coffin Lid**

Jumping out a window five hundred feet aboveground is not my idea of a fun time. Especially when I'm wearing bronze wings and flapping my arms like a mad bird.

I plummeted toward the valley and the red rocks below, shrieking swearwords in a mixture of Ancient Greek, Latin and English. I figured that I was probably going to be smashed into pieces on the ground of the Garden of the Gods, and the thought of such an ignominious death seriously pissed me off.

"Spread your arms!" Luke yelled from somewhere above me. "Keep 'em extended!"

The small part of my brain that wasn't concentrating on cursing the Fates heard him, and my arms responded. As soon as I spread them out, the wings stiffened, caught the wind, and my descent slowed. I soared downward, but at a controlled angle, like a kite in a dive.

Experimentally, I flapped my arms once. I arced into the sky, the wind whistling in my ears. My stomach did flipflops, and I swallowed back the urge to vomit.

I suppose if I wasn't so terrified of heights then I might've enjoyed it, but I was a daughter of the sea. The only way I could feel comfortable in the sky was if I was on a pegasus, which was a whole other ballgame. Equines were as much my territory as the ocean was.

I wasn't as panicked now that I had some level of control over my wings, but I'd feel even better on solid ground. If I could figure out how to _get_  there, at least.

I twisted my head and saw my friends spiralling above me, glinting in the sunlight. Behind them, smoke billowed from the windows of Daedalus' workshop.

"We need to land!" I yelled to them.

Luke nodded at me in agreement, calling back, "These wings won't last forever."

"How long?" Rachel asked.

"I don't want to find out!" he replied.

"I agree!" I called. "How in the name of Olympus do we get down from here?"

We swooped down toward the Garden of the Gods. Luke (show-off and experienced flyer that he was) did a complete circle around one of the rock spires and freaked out a couple of innocent mortal climbers. Then the four of us soared across the valley, over a road, and landed on the terrace of the visitor centre. It was late afternoon and the place looked pretty empty, but we ripped off our wings as quickly as we could.

Looking at them, I could see that Luke was right. The self-adhesive seals that bound the wings to our backs were already melting, and we were shedding bronze feathers. It seemed a shame given how lovely they were, but we couldn't fix them, and we  _definitely_  couldn't leave them around for the mortals, so we stuffed the wings in trash bins outside the cafeteria.

I used the tourist binocular camera to look up at the hill where Daedalus' workshop had been, but it had vanished. No more smoke. No broken windows. Just the side of a hill.

"The workshop must've moved," Luke guessed as he ran a hand through his tangled curls. "There's no telling where."

"So what do we do now?" I asked, feeling helpless and hating it fiercely. "How do we get back in the maze?"

Luke gazed at the summit of Pikes Peak in the distance. "Maybe we can't. If Daedalus died…he said his life force was tied into the Labyrinth. The whole thing might've been destroyed. Maybe that will stop the invasion." I could tell that he doubted it, even as he spoke.

I thought about Grover and Tyson, still down there somewhere. And Daedalus…even though he'd done some terrible things and put everybody I cared about at risk, it seemed like a pretty horrible way to die.

"No," Nico stated. "He isn't dead."

"How can you be sure?" I asked, cocking my head and playing with my camp necklace.

"I know when people die. It's this feeling I get, like a buzzing in my ears."

"What about Tyson and Grover, then?"

Nico shook his head. "That's harder. They're not humans or half-bloods. They don't have mortal souls."

I bit my bottom lip and looked down at the ground, furrowing my eyebrows.

"We have to get into town," Luke decided. "Our chances will be better of finding an entrance to the Labyrinth. We have to make it back to camp before Ethan and his army." I noticed that he didn't mention Annabeth, but I didn't comment on it. She was a touchy subject, even now. Probably always would be, his favourite little sister and most-loathed enemy.

"We could just take a plane," Rachel suggested.

I shuddered instinctively. "I don't fly."

"But you just did."

"That was low flying," I explained, "and even that's risky. Flying up really high—that's Zeus' territory. Not to mention Nico being with us too. We can't do it. The Sky Lord would smite us out of the air before we even breeched the cloudline. Besides, we don't even have time for a flight. The labyrinth is the quickest way back."

I didn't want to say it aloud in case I jinxed our chances, but I was also hoping that maybe we would find Grover and Tyson along the way.

"So we need a car to take us into the city," Luke declared. He grimaced. "I could hotwire one, I guess," he offered. I bit my lip. Luke hated using his 'gifts' from his father, and I myself had never been fond of theft and such. They were often necessary, but I liked to use the legal option if I could. Still, I didn't think we had much choice this time.

"I gue-" I began to say, but Rachel cut me off.

She was looking down into the parking lot. She grimaced, as if she were about to do something she didn't like but had to do for the sake of the greater good. Sometimes, I almost wondered if she  _were_  a half-blood after all. "I'll take care of it."

"How?" I wondered.

"Just trust me."

We exchanged quick looks, then I shrugged. "Alright," I agreed. "Luke, you go buy a prism in the gift shop, try to make a rainbow, and send an Iris-message to camp. Warn them what's happened and that the enemy are on the way." He nodded curtly, accepting the small wad of cash I held out to him.

"I'll go with him," Nico decided. "I'm hungry."

"I'll stick with Rachel," I continued. "Meet you guys in the parking lot."

Rachel frowned like she didn't want me with her. That made me feel kind of bad, but I followed her down to the parking lot anyway. She needed protection right now, as our best shot at getting home in time, with the Titans knowing her face.

She headed toward a big black car parked at the edge of the lot. It was a chauffeured Lexus, like the kind I always saw driving around Manhattan. The driver was out front, reading a newspaper. He wore a dark suit and tie.

"What are you going to do?" I asked Rachel.

"Just wait here," she said miserably. "Please."

Rachel marched straight up to the driver and talked to him. He frowned. Rachel said something else. He turned pale and hastily folded up his magazine. He nodded and fumbled for his cell phone. After a brief call, he opened the back door of the car for Rachel to get in. She pointed back in my direction, and the driver bobbed his head some more, like Yes, ma'am. Whatever you want.

I couldn't figure out why he was acting so flustered. Who  _was_  Rachel, to get a reaction like that?

Rachel came back to get me just as Nico and Luke appeared from the gift shop.

"I talked to Chiron," Luke informed me. "They're doing their best to prepare for battle, but he still wants us back. They're going to need every fighter they can get. Did we find a ride?"

"The driver's ready when we are," Rachel told us.

The chauffeur was now talking to another guy in khakis and a polo shirt, probably his client who'd rented the car. The client was complaining, but I could hear the driver saying, "I'm sorry, sir. Emergency. I've ordered another car for you."

"Come on," Rachel said. She led us to the car and got in without even looking at the flustered guy who'd rented it. A minute later we were cruising down the road. The seats were leather. There was plenty of legroom. The backseat had flat-panel TVs built into the headrests and a mini-fridge stocked with bottled water, sodas, and snacks. We started stuffing ourselves shamelessly.

Over the course of my life, I had long realized the importance of eating when I could. Food is energy, and energy is critical for a life in which you could be attacked any second. Who cared about manners if it killed you?

"Where to, Miss Dare?" the driver asked.

There was a strange mix of respect and nervousness in his tone as he said her surname. Maybe if I'd had the strength, I would have dug deeper into the mystery. As it was, getting back to Camp Half-Blood ahead of the Titans was far more important than Rachel's influence in the mortal world.

"I'm not sure yet, Robert," she said. "We just need to drive through town and, uh, look around."

"Whatever you say, miss."

"Help me look," she urged the boys and I. From the look in her eyes, she was relieved that we weren't asking her any awkward questions about her strange ability to make random chauffeurs do whatever she wanted with a few words.

We drove through Colorado Springs for about half an hour and saw nothing that Rachel considered a possible Labyrinth entrance.

After about an hour we decided to head north toward Denver, thinking that maybe a bigger city would be more likely to have a Labyrinth entrance, but we were all getting nervous. We were losing time.

Then right as we were leaving Colorado Springs, Rachel sat bolt upright. "Get off the highway!"

The driver glanced back. "Miss?"

"I saw something, I think. Get off here."

The driver swerved across traffic and took the exit.

"What did you see?" I asked, because we were pretty much out of the city now. There wasn't anything around except hills, grassland, and some scattered farm buildings. Rachel had the driver turn down this unpromising dirt road. We drove by a sign too fast for me to read it, but Rachel announced that it was, the "Western Museum of Mining & Industry."

For a museum, it didn't look like much—a little house like an old-fashioned railroad station, some drills and pumps and old steam shovels on display outside.

"There." Rachel pointed to a hole in the side of a nearby hill—a tunnel that was boarded up and chained. "An old mine entrance."

"A door to the Labyrinth?" Luke checked. "How can you be sure?"

"Well, look at it!" Rachel waved at it. "I mean…I can see it, okay?"

Gods knew what the driver thought of our conversation.

She thanked the driver and we all got out. He didn't ask for money or anything. "Are you sure you'll be all right, Miss Dare? I'd be happy to call your—"

"No!" Rachel exclaimed. "No, really. Thanks, Robert. But we're fine."

The museum seemed to be closed, so nobody bothered us as we climbed the hill to the mine shaft. When we got to the entrance, I saw the mark of Daedalus engraved on the padlock, though how Rachel had seen something so tiny all the way from the highway I had no idea. Maybe clear-sighted mortals had eagle eye range. I touched the padlock and the chains fell away. We kicked down a few boards and walked inside. For better or worse, we were back in the Labyrinth.

The dirt tunnels turned to stone soon enough. They wound around and split off and basically tried to confuse us, but Rachel had no trouble guiding us. We told her we needed to get back to New York, and she hardly even paused when the tunnels offered a choice.

To my surprise, Rachel and Luke started up a conversation as we walked. Luke asked her more about her background, but Rachel was evasive, so they started talking about, of all things, politics. Not something you'd expect from people like them, but they really got into it.

Meanwhile, I hung back and walked next to Nico in uncomfortable silence. I felt protective of him, and got his situation in a way few people could, but I didn't  _know_  him.

"Thanks for coming after us," I told him at last.

Nico's eyes narrowed. He didn't seem as angry as he had been at the ranch—just suspicious, careful. "I owed you for the ranch, Ana. Plus…I wanted to see Daedalus for myself. Minos was right, in a way. Daedalus should die. Nobody should be able to avoid death that long. It's not natural."

"I agree," I stated simply. People were rarely black-and-white, but I couldn't bring myself to approve of what the old inventor had done. Cheating death was wrong, and the thought of what he'd done, solely to avoid being punished for the murder he'd committed, made me shudder. But it brought me to another topic that I wanted to discuss with him.

"That's what you were after all along," I said. "Trading Daedalus' soul for your sister's."

Nico walked for another fifty yards before answering. "It hasn't been easy, you know. Having only the dead for company. Knowing that I'll never be accepted by the living. Only the dead respect me, and they only do that out of fear."

"You could be accepted," I said. "You could have friends at camp."

He stared at me. "Do you really believe that, Ana?"

"Yes," I assured him. "And anyway, you'll always have me. As long as I live, you can rely on me. I swear it."

I didn't swear on the Styx, because there always the chance that I'd be hurt or whatever, but I meant it. I was about to go on and say that, while I wasn't naïve enough to think everybody would embrace him with open arms, I did genuinely think that most people would be okay with him. We were a tolerant people, mainly due to the fact that we were all misfits by nature. And my vouching for him would go a long way to easing any fears. All he had to do was give us a real chance.

But I didn't get the chance to tell him any of that. I ran into Rachel, who'd stopped in front of me, too suddenly for me to avoid crashing into her. I did manage to grab her and stop us both from tumbling to the ground, though.

We'd come to a crossroads. The tunnel continued straight ahead, but a side tunnel T'd off to the right—a circular shaft carved from volcanic rock.

"What is it?" I asked urgently. "A trap?"

Rachel stared down the dark tunnel. In the dim flashlight beam, her face looked like one of Nico's spectres.

"That way?" Luke asked doubtfully. We frowned at the tunnel. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about it made me nervous. Then again, I was in the Labyrinth. Few things  _didn't_ make me nervous in this godsforsaken place.

"No," Rachel denied nervously. "Not at all."

"Why are we stopping then?" I asked, or rather, snapped. I felt bad about it, but the longer we took returning home, the more panicked I felt. What if Ethan and Annabeth were attacking right now? Ploughing through the phalanxes and slaughtering my family? What if I got home and saw my nightmares brought to life. The thought of my home in flames, its' beautiful grounds strewn with the bodies of my loved ones, made me shudder.

"Listen," Nico said.

I heard wind coming down the tunnel, as if the exit were close. And I smelled something vaguely familiar—something that brought back bad memories.

"Eucalyptus trees," I breathed, my fist clenching around the pommel of my sword. "Like in California."

California, where I had been last winter. California, the place I was held on Mount Tamalpais with Lady Artemis when I'd been captured. The air had smelled like that in that godsawful place. Like eucalyptus trees and smoke and death.

Luke gave me a worried look, but other than my breath quickening slightly, I managed to maintain my composure and focus. The memories tried to drag me into a flashback, but I forced them back. I would probably always feel guilty for letting my friends think I was dead, as well as leaving Calypso behind, but my time on Ogygia had done me good. Finally talking about and acknowledging everything I had been through had done me good. Resting had done me good.

"There's something evil down that tunnel," Rachel declared. "Something very powerful."

"It must lead to Othrys," I muttered. "The Titans' base."

"What should we do?" Nico wondered. "I can smell death."

He was clutching his sword tightly, glaring suspiciously at the tunnel. It was a reassuring action to note. Whatever else he decided, I had faith that Nico wouldn't willingly join the Titans.

Luke and I looked at each other, then I gave a firm nod as I made my decision.

"I'll go do some recon," I stated. There was instant protest, as I'd expected.

"No!" Luke protested. "It's too dangerous."

"You could be spotted, and we wouldn't be able to help," Nico added.

"We need to check this out," I insisted stubbornly.

"Then I'll go too," Luke suggested, almost pleading. I had to admit, I wasn't too excited at the plan myself. I would've appreciated Luke's comforting presence. But I shook my head stubbornly.

"No," I said. "It's too dangerous. If they got hold of Nico, or Rachel for that matter, Kronos could use them. You stay here and guard them."

What I didn't say: I was also worried about Luke. I didn't trust what he would do if he saw Annabeth again. He couldn't think straight around her, his judgement too clouded by their shared past and his anger at her betrayal.

"Ana, don't," Rachel begged. "Don't go up there alone."

"I'll be quick," I promised. "I won't do anything stupid."

"Be careful," Luke sighed, shoulders slumping in resignation.

I forced a smile, but I would've been surprised if it didn't look like a grimace. "Aren't I always?" We stared at each other for another long moment. The last time we'd parted ways in the Labyrinth, I'd kissed him. This time, I simply nodded and turned away.

Give me an army to fight alone, I'll take of them with me when I die. But no way in Hades would I ever be anything more than a coward when it comes to my heart. I'd learned my lesson about that listening to my mother's tears as a child. Better to be a coward than broken-hearted.

***  
Before I even got to the exit I heard voices: the growling, barking sounds of sea-demon smiths, the telekhines.

"At least we salvaged the blade," one said. "The master will still reward us."

"Yes! Yes!" a second shrieked. "Rewards beyond measure!"

I resisted the urge to rub at my temples to ease the headache their voices were giving me.

Another voice, this one more human, said: "Yeah, well that's great for you. Now, if you're done with me—"

"No, half-blood!" a telekhine snapped. "You must help us make the presentation. It is a great honour!"

"Gee, thanks," the half-blood scoffed, and I realized it was Alabaster Torrington, the guy who'd run away after I'd saved his sorry life in the arena. Damn him to Tartarus for this.

"Enough of this," a girl's voice, Annabeth's voice, snapped. "Is it ready yet?"

I crept toward the end of the tunnel. I had to remind myself I was invisible. They shouldn't be able to see me.

"Yes, it merely needs to be sanctified first," one of the telekhines assured her.

"Good," she bit out. "Hurry up."

A blast of cold air hit me as I emerged. I was standing near the top of Mount Tam. The Pacific Ocean spread out below, grey under a cloudy sky. About twenty feet downhill, two telekhines were placing something on a big rock—something long and thin and wrapped in a black cloth. Torrington was helping them open it while Annabeth stood back and watched. As per usual, she had a scowl on her face.

Quickly, I hid myself in the shadows, angling my blade to conceal its' glow.

"Careful, fool," the telekhine scolded. "One touch, and the blade will sever your soul from your body." That sounded bad, as in, destroy that weapon immediately bad.

Torrington swallowed nervously. "Maybe I'll let you unwrap it, then."

I glanced up at the mountain's peak, where a black marble fortress loomed, just like I'd seen in my dreams. It reminded me of an oversized mausoleum, with walls fifty feet high. I had no idea how mortals could miss the fact that it was here. But then again, everything below the summit seemed fuzzy to me, as if there were a thick veil between me and the lower half of the mountain. There was some really powerful Mist here. Above me, the sky swirled into a huge funnel cloud. I couldn't see Atlas, but I could hear him groaning in the distance, still labouring under the weight of the sky, just beyond the fortress.

"There!" the telekhine declared. Reverently, he lifted the weapon, and my blood turned to ice.

It was a scythe—a six-foot-long blade curved like a crescent moon, with a wooden handle wrapped in leather. The blade glinted two different colours— steel and bronze. It was the weapon of Kronos, the one he'd used to slice up his father, Ouranos, before the gods had taken it away from him and cut Kronos to pieces, casting him into Tartarus. Now the weapon was re-forged.

"We must sanctify it in blood," the telekhine announced, making me suppress a shudder. Black magic was the only magic that required blood. "Then you, half-blood, shall help present it when the lord awakes."

"Which will be soon," Annabeth added curtly. "So _hurry up_."

I stayed in the safety of the shadows as I scurried toward the fortress, my pulse pounding in my ears. I didn't want to get anywhere close to that horrible black mausoleum, but I knew what I had to do. I had to stop Kronos from rising. This might be my only chance.

I dashed through a dark foyer and into the main hall. The floor shined like a mahogany piano—pure black and yet full of light. Black marble statues lined the walls. I didn't recognize the faces, but I knew I was looking at images of the Titans who'd ruled before the gods. At the end of the room, between two bronze braziers, was a dais. And on the dais, the golden sarcophagus.

The room was silent except for the crackle of the fires. Neither Annabeth nor Ethan were here. No guards. Nothing.

It was too easy, but I approached the dais.

The sarcophagus was just like I remembered—about ten feet long, much too big for a human. It was carved with elaborate scenes of death and destruction, pictures of the gods being trodden under chariots, temples and famous world landmarks being smashed and burned. The whole coffin gave off an aura of extreme cold, like I was walking into a freezer. My breath began to steam.

I drew Anaklusmos and took a little comfort from the familiar weight of the sword in my hand.

Whenever I'd approached Kronos' sarcophagus before, his evil voice had spoken in my mind. Why was he silent now? He'd been shred into a thousand pieces, cut with his own scythe. What would I find if I opened that lid? How could they make a new body for him?

I had no answers. I just knew that if he was about to rise, I had to strike him down before he got his scythe. I had to figure out a way to stop him.

I stood over the coffin. The lid was decorated even more intricately than the sides—with scenes of carnage and power. In the middle was an inscription carved in letters even older than Greek, a language of magic. I couldn't read it, exactly, but I knew what it said: KRONOS, LORD OF TIME.

My hand touched the lid. My fingertips turned blue. Frost gathered on my sword.

Then I heard noises behind me—voices approaching. It was now or never. I pushed back the golden lid and it fell to the floor with a huge WHOOOOM!

I lifted my sword, ready to strike. But when I looked inside, I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. Mortal legs, dressed in grey pants. A white T-shirt, hands folded over his stomach. One piece of his chest was missing—a clean black hole about the size of a bullet wound, right where his heart should've been. His eyes were closed, one of them with a vicious scar going across it. Dark hair, sharp, Asian features.

The body in the coffin was Ethan's.

***  
I should have stabbed him right then. I should've brought the point of my sword down with all my strength.

But I was too stunned. I didn't understand. As much as I hated Ethan, as much as I wished for him to rot in the Fields of Punishment for everything he'd done, I just didn't get why he was in the coffin, and why he looked so very, very dead.

I snapped out of haze as I heard footsteps approaching, and dived behind a column to hide as Annabeth entered, leading Alabaster Torrington and the pair of telekhines I'd seen earlier.

"What happened!" Annabeth shrieked when she saw the lid.

"Careful!" a telekhine warned her. "Perhaps he stirs. We must present the gifts now. Immediately!"

Annabeth knelt alongside the two telekhines, who shuffled forward and held up the scythe on its wrapping cloth.

"My lord," one said. "Your symbol of power is remade."

Silence. Nothing happened in the coffin.

"You fool," the other telekhine muttered. "He requires the half-blood first."

For a panicked second, I thought that it meant me. Then I realized they meant Torrington, who stepped back, an alarmed look on his face. "Whoa, what do you mean, he requires me?"

"Don't be a coward!" the first telekhine hissed. "He does not require your death. Only your allegiance. Pledge him your service. Renounce the gods. That is all."

I didn't think, I just reacted. "No!" I cried, diving out of my hiding place.

"Jackson!" Annabeth spat my name like a curse, while I gave Alabaster an imploring look.

"Alabaster don't," I begged him. "I don't like the gods either, but they're better than the Titans! Kronos is nothing but a liar! He'll destroy the entire world. Don't do this, please."

He tightened his jaw. "I'm the son of Hecate," he informed me. "Mother has joined Lord Kronos already, and I will stand with her." He turned toward the dais. "I renounce the gods! What have they ever done for me? I will see them destroyed. I will serve Kronos."

I had lunged for him desperately to try and stop him, but Annabeth got in my way, blocking my sword with her knife. I was about to engage her, but I was too late.

The building rumbled, making us all freeze and turn towards the sarcophagus. A wisp of blue light rose from the floor at Torrington's feet. It drifted toward the coffin and began to shimmer, like a cloud of pure energy. Then it descended on the sarcophagus.

Ethan sat bolt upright. His eyes opened, but they were wrong. The missing one was healed, for one thing, and the other thing was their colour. They weren't brown any more, they were golden instead. The same colour as the coffin in fact. The hole in his chest was gone. He was complete.

He leaped out of the coffin with ease, and where his feet touched the floor, the marble froze like craters of ice.

He looked at Torrington and the telekhines with those horrible golden eyes, as if he were a newborn baby, not sure what he was seeing. Then he looked at me, and a smile of recognition crept across his mouth.

"M, my lord?" Annabeth stammered out, her grey eyes wide enough to engulf her entire face. "Are, are you well?"

"This body has been well prepared." His voice was like a razor blade running over my skin and making me shudder. It was Ethan's, but not Ethan's. Underneath his voice was another, more horrible sound—an ancient, cold sound like metal scraping against rock. "Don't you think so, Ana Jackson?"

I couldn't move. I couldn't answer. I was too revolted and terrified to even breathe properly.

Kronos threw back his head and laughed. The scar on his face rippled.

"Ethan feared you," the Titan's voice said. "His jealously and hatred have been powerful tools. It has kept him obedient. For that I thank you."

Alabaster had collapsed in terror. He covered his face with his hands. The telekhines trembled, holding up the scythe.

Finally I found my nerve, or maybe I was just suicidal. I lunged at the thing that used to be Ethan, thrusting my blade straight at his chest, but his skin deflected the blow like he was made of pure steel. He looked at me with amusement. Then he flicked his hand, and I flew across the room.

I slammed against a pillar. I struggled to my feet, blinking the stars out of my eyes, but Kronos had already grasped the handle of his scythe.

"Ah…much better," he said. "Backbiter, Ethan called it. An appropriate name. Now that it is re-forged completely, it shall indeed bite back."

"What have you done to Ethan, you monster?" I groaned. It was a good thing my heritage gave me better capability to take injuries. A mortal would've been knocked unconscious by the blow I'd received.

Kronos raised his scythe. "He serves me with his whole being, as I require. The difference is, he feared you, Ana Jackson. I do not."

I wanted to flee, to grab my friends and get as far from this Fates-damned place as we could. But my feet felt like lead. Time slowed down around me, like the world was turning to Jell-O. I'd had this feeling once before, and I knew it was the power of Kronos. His presence was so strong it could bend time itself.

"Run, little heroine," he laughed. "Run!"

I glanced back and saw him approaching leisurely, swinging his scythe as if he were enjoying the feel of having it in his hands again. No weapon in the world could stop him. No amount of Celestial Bronze.

He was ten feet away when I heard, "ANA!"

Rachel's voice. I didn't have time to panic when something completely brilliant, terrifying and shockingly hilarious occurred. Of course, I couldn't laugh at the time, but in hindsight, it was pure gold.

Something flew past me, and a blue plastic hairbrush hit Kronos in the eye.

"Ow!" he yelled. For a moment it was only Ethan's voice, full of surprise and pain. My limbs were freed and I dashed off as quick as I could. I ran straight into Rachel, Nico, and Luke, who were standing in the entry hall, their eyes filled with dismay.

"What's going on?" Luke began to ask, but his eyes were fixed on Annabeth, who was looking at him miserably.

I ignored it all, frantic to get away. "RUN!" I shrieked as I grabbed him roughly by the arm and hauled him after me. I ran as fast as I've ever run, straight out of the fortress, the others at my heels. We were almost back to the Labyrinth entrance when I heard the loudest bellow in the world—the voice of Kronos, coming back into control. "AFTER THEM!"

"No!" Nico yelled. He clapped his hands together, and a jagged spire of rock the size of an eighteen-wheeler erupted from the ground right in front of the fortress. The tremor it caused was so powerful the front columns of the building came crashing down. I heard muffled screams from the telekhines inside. Dust billowed everywhere.

"You're my new favourite!" I yelled at him as we plunged into the Labyrinth and kept running, the howl of the Titan lord shaking the entire world behind us.

There wasn't even any thought to my flight. No debate in my mind about—gee, should I stand up to him and try to fight again? Should I ask Rachel which way to go? Nope, I simply ran.


	17. Death of the Wild God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pan is found, then lost forever

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**The Death of the Wild God**

We ran until we couldn't physically go any further. Rachel steered us away from traps, but we had no destination in mind—only away from that dark mountain and the roar of Kronos.

We stopped in a tunnel of wet white rock, like part of a natural cave. I couldn't hear anything behind us, but I didn't feel any safer. I could still remember those unnatural golden eyes staring out of Ethan's face, and the feeling that my limbs were slowly turning to stone. The power had felt like it was crushing me, and my skin crawled with disgust at the memory of the sensation.

"I can't go any farther," Rachel gasped, hugging her chest. I didn't blame her. I could tell from her form that she wasn't a naturally athletic person, and even I was panting to regain my breath, despite years of intense training.

Luke was pressing a hand against the wall to steady himself, muttering "by the gods. Olympus preserve us all," over and over again. Nico and I sat next to each other. He dropped his sword next to mine and took a shaky breath.

"That sucked," he announced, which I thought was a bit of an understatement, but decent enough.

"You saved our lives," I stated.

Nico wiped the dust off his face. "Blame the others for dragging me along. That's the only thing they could agree on. We needed to help you or you'd get yourself killed."

I shrugged, considering it was true. I was talented, but not talented enough to defeat the King of the Titans. Not even close.

I forced myself not to think about the long-term consequences of that, and shined my flashlight across the cavern. Water dripped from the stalactites like a slow-motion rain. "Nico…you, uh, kind of gave yourself away."

"What do you mean?"

"That wall of black stone? That was pretty impressive. If Kronos didn't know who you were before, he does now—a child of the Underworld."

Nico frowned. "Big deal."

I let it drop. I figured that he was just trying to hide how scared he was, and I couldn't blame him. I was so frightened it was a battle to avoid throwing up.

Luke finally stopped mumbling pleas to the gods and fixed his gaze on me. I'd never seen him so disturbed. "What the fuck happened, Ariel?" he demanded. "Ethan, he- What happened?"

I told him what I'd seen in the coffin, the way the last piece of Kronos's spirit had entered Ethan's body when Alabaster Torrington pledged his service.

"That shouldn't be possible," Luke insisted stubbornly, shaking his head. I could see the desperation and terror in his sky-blue eyes. "Not even a half-blood of the Big Three could host the essence of a Titan. The power should've burned him from inside out."

I shrugged dully. "I dunno, but it was definitely Kro-the Crooked One." Now of all times, we needed to avoid using the Titan's actual name. "Some sort of dark magic. Torrington said that Hecate had joined the Titans."

Luke's expression darkened and he clutched the hilt of Halcyon like he was drowning and the sword was the lifebelt keeping him afloat. "We need to get back to Camp straight away," he declared. "Chiron needs to know about this."

I nodded, then remembered something and looked at Rachel with respect. "You hit the Lord of the Titans in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush," I informed her. "You are, without question, the most badass mortal I've ever met."

Rachel looked embarrassed. "It was the only thing I had."

"It was still awesome," I told her. "You saved all of us."

She flushed and shrugged modestly, then Nico spoke up.

"We have to keep moving. He'll send monsters after us."

Nobody was in any shape to run, but Nico and Luke were right. I hauled myself up and helped Rachel to her feet.

"Back to New York," I stated. "To Camp, like Luke said. Rachel, can you—"

I froze. A few feet in front of us, my flashlight beam fixed on a trampled clump of red fabric lying on the ground. It was a Rasta cap: the one Grover always wore.

***  
My hands shook as I picked up the cap. It looked like it had been stepped on by a huge muddy boot. After all that I'd gone through today, I couldn't stand the thought that something might've happened to Grover, too.

Then I noticed something else. The cave floor was mushy and wet from the water dripping off the stalactites. There were large footprints like Tyson's, and smaller ones—goat hooves—leading off to the left.

"We have to follow them," I insisted, hearing the desperation in my tone. "They went that way. It must have been recently."

"What about Camp Half-Blood?" Nico pointed out, crinkling his eyebrow. "There's no time."

"We have to find them," Luke refuted. "They're our friends."

He picked up Grover's smashed cap and forged ahead.

I followed, bracing myself for the worst. The tunnel was treacherous. It sloped at weird angles and was slimy with moisture. Half the time we were slipping and sliding rather than walking.

Finally we got to the bottom of a slope and found ourselves in a large cave with huge stalagmite columns. Through the centre of the room ran an underground river, and Tyson was sitting by the banks, cradling Grover in his lap. Grover's eyes were closed. He wasn't moving.

"Tyson!" I yelled.

"Ana! Come quick!"

We ran over to him. Grover wasn't dead, thank the gods, but his whole body trembled like he was freezing to death. His chest moved raggedly. I knelt at his side, checking his pulse and biting my lip worriedly. It was far too fast, but seemed to be settling, thank the gods.

"What happened?" I asked, fluttering my hands over him helplessly. We'd lost the med-kit at some point, and I didn't know what to do. I had a canteen of nectar hooked to my belt, but satyrs couldn't tolerate it.

"So many things," Tyson murmured. "Large snake. Large dogs. Men with swords. But then…we got close to here. Grover was excited. He ran. Then we reached this room, and he fell. Like this."

"Did he say anything?" I pressed.

"He said, 'We're close.' Then hit his head on rocks."

I exchanged a look with Luke, who's eyes had gone wide. The only other time I'd heard of Grover randomly passing out was New Mexico, when he'd felt the presence of Pan.

I shined my flashlight around the cavern. The rocks glittered. At the far end was the entrance to another cave, flanked by gigantic columns of crystal that looked like diamonds. And beyond that entrance…

"Grover," I urged my friend. "Wake up."

"Uhhhhhhhh."

Luke knelt on his other side and splashed icy cold river water in his face.

"Splurg!" His eyelids fluttered. "Ana? Luke? Where…"

"It's okay," I told him soothingly. "You passed out. The presence was too much for you."

"I—I remember. Pan."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Something powerful is just beyond that doorway."

***  
I made quick introductions, since Tyson and Grover had never met Rachel. Tyson told Rachel she was pretty, which made her flush, despite the nervous way she looked at him.

"Anyway," I said. "Come on, Grover. Lean on me."

Luke and I helped him up, and together we waded across the underground river. The current was strong. The water came up to our waists. I willed myself to stay dry, which is a handy little ability, but that didn't help the others, and I could still feel the cold, like wading through a snowdrift.

"I think we're in Carlsbad Caverns," Luke said, his teeth chattering. "Maybe an unexplored section."

"How do you know?"

"Carlsbad is in New Mexico," he explained. "That would explain last winter."

I nodded. Grover's swooning episode had happened when the quest had passed through New Mexico. That's where he'd felt closest to the power of Pan.

We got out of the water and kept walking. As the crystal pillars loomed larger, I started to feel the power emanating from the next room. I'd been in the presence of gods before, but this was different. My skin tingled with living energy. My weariness fell away, as if I'd just gotten a good night's sleep. I could feel myself growing stronger, like one of those plants in a time-lapse video. And the scent coming from the cave was nothing like the dank wet underground. It smelled of trees and flowers and a warm summer day.

Grover whimpered with excitement. I was too stunned to talk. Even Nico seemed speechless. We stepped into the cave, and Rachel gasped, "Oh, wow."

The walls glittered with crystals—red, green, and blue. In the strange light, beautiful plants grew—giant orchids, star-shaped flowers, vines bursting with orange and purple berries that crept among the crystals. The cave floor was covered with green moss. Overhead, the ceiling was higher than a cathedral, sparkling like a galaxy of stars. In the centre of the cave stood a Roman-style bed, gilded wood shaped like a curly U, with velvet cushions. Animals lounged around it—but they were animals that shouldn't have been alive. There was a dodo bird, something that looked like a cross between a wolf and a tiger, a huge rodent like the mother of all guinea pigs, and roaming behind the bed, picking berries with its trunk, was a woolly mammoth.

On the bed lay an old satyr. He watched us as we approached, his eyes as blue as the sky. His curly hair was white and so was his pointed beard. Even the goat fur on his legs was frosted with grey. His horns were enormous— glossy brown and curved. There was no way he could've hidden those under a hat the way Grover did. Around his neck hung a set of reed pipes.

Grover fell to his knees in front of the bed. "Lord Pan!"

The god smiled kindly, but there was sadness in his eyes. "Grover, my dear, brave satyr. I have waited a very long time for you."

"I…got lost," Grover apologized.

Pan laughed. It was a wonderful sound, like the first breeze of springtime, filling the whole cavern with hope. The tiger-wolf sighed and rested his head on the god's knee. The dodo bird pecked affectionately at the god's hooves, making a strange sound in the back of its bill. I could swear it was humming "It's a Small World."

Still, Pan looked tired. His whole form shimmered as if he were made of Mist.

I noticed my other friends were kneeling. They had awed looks on their faces. I got to my knees.

"My lord," I greeted him. "I like your dodo bird."

The god's eyes twinkled. "Yes, that's Dede. My little actress."

Dede the dodo looked offended. She pecked at Pan's knee and hummed something that sounded like a funeral dirge.

"This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen," Luke declared. He looked as amazed as I felt as he looked around the cavern.

"I am glad you like it, dear," Pan said. "It is one of the last wild places. My realm above is gone, I'm afraid. Only pockets remain. Tiny pieces of life. This one shall stay undisturbed…for a little longer."

"My lord," Grover begged, "please, you must come back with me! The Elders will never believe it! They'll be overjoyed! You can save the wild!"

Pan placed his hand on Grover's head and ruffled his curly hair. "You are so young, Grover. So good and true. I think I chose well."

"Chose?" Grover said. "I—I don't understand."

Pan's image flickered, momentarily turning to smoke. The giant guinea pig scuttled under the bed with a terrified squeal. The woolly mammoth grunted nervously. Dede stuck her head under her wing. My stomach clenched tightly. Then Pan re-formed.

"I have slept many eons," the god said forlornly. "My dreams have been dark. I wake fitfully, and each time my waking is shorter. Now we are near the end."

"What?" Grover cried. "But no! You're right here!"

"My dear satyr," Pan sighed. "I tried to tell the world, two thousand years ago. I announced it to Lysas, a satyr very much like you. He lived in Ephesos, and he tried to spread the word."

"The old story," I murmured in realization, remembering a discussion Grover and I had once had, back on our first quest. "A sailor passing by the coast of Ephesos heard a voice crying from the shore, 'Tell them the great god Pan is dead.'"

"But that wasn't true!" Grover cried.

"Your kind never believed it," Pan said. "You sweet, stubborn satyrs refused to accept my passing. And I love you for that, but you only delayed the inevitable. You only prolonged my long, painful passing, my dark twilight sleep. It must end."

"No!" Grover's voice trembled.

"Dear Grover," Pan said. "You must accept the truth. Your companion, Nico, he understands."

Nico nodded slowly. "He's dying. He should have died long ago. This…this is more like a memory."

"But gods can't die," Grover denied it stubbornly.

"They can fade," Pan replied, "when everything they stood for is gone. When they cease to have power, and their sacred places disappear. The wild, my dear Grover, is so small now, so shattered, that no god can save it. My realm is gone. That is why I need you to carry a message. You must go back to the council. You must tell the satyrs, and the dryads, and the other spirits of nature, that the great god Pan is dead. Tell them of my passing. Because they must stop waiting for me to save them. I cannot. The only salvation you must make yourself. Each of you must—"

He stopped and frowned at the dodo bird, who had started humming again.

"Dede, what are you doing?" Pan demanded. "Are you singing Kumbaya again?"

Dede looked up innocently and blinked her yellow eyes.

Pan sighed. "Everybody's a cynic. But as I was saying, my dear Grover, each of you must take up my calling."

"But…no!" Grover whimpered.

"Be strong," Pan instructed him. "You have found me. And now you must release me. You must carry on my spirit. It can no longer be carried by a god. It must be taken up by all of you."

Pan looked straight at me with his clear blue eyes, and I realized he wasn't just talking about satyrs. He meant half-bloods, too, and humans. Everyone.

"Ana Jackson," the god said. "I know what you have seen today. I know your doubts. But I give you this news: when the time comes, you will not be ruled by fear."

He turned to Luke. "Son of Hermes, your time is coming. You will play a great role, though it may not be the role you expected."

Then he looked at Tyson. "Master Cyclops, do not despair. Heroes rarely live up to our expectations. But you, Tyson—your name shall live among the Cyclopes for generations. And Miss Rachel Dare…"

Rachel flinched when he said her name. She backed up like she was guilty of something, but Pan only smiled. He raised his hand in a blessing.

"I know you believe you cannot make amends," he told. "But you are just as important as your father."

"I—" Rachel faltered. A tear traced her cheek.

"I know you don't believe this now," Pan said. "But look for opportunities. They will come."

Finally he turned back toward Grover. "My dear satyr," Pan's voice was kind as he spoke, "will you carry my message?"

"I—I can't."

"You can," Pan stated firmly. "You are the strongest and the bravest. Your heart is true. You have believed in me more than anyone ever has, which is why you must bring the message, and why you must be the first to release me."

"I don't want to."

"I know," the god agreed. "But my name, Pan…originally it meant rustic. Did you know that? But over the years it has come to mean all. The spirit of the wild must pass to all of you now. You must tell each one you meet: if you would find Pan, take up Pan's spirit. Remake the wild, a little at a time, each in your own corner of the world. You cannot wait for anyone else, even a god, to do that for you."

Grover wiped his eyes. Then slowly he stood. "I've spent my whole life looking for you. Now…I release you."

Pan smiled. "Thank you, dear satyr. My final blessing."

He closed his eyes, and the god dissolved. White mist divided into wisps of energy, but this kind of energy wasn't scary like the blue power I'd seen from Kronos. It filled the room. A curl of smoke went straight into my mouth, and Grover's and the others. But I think a little more of it went into Grover. The crystals dimmed. The animals gave us a sad look. Dede the dodo sighed. Then they all turned grey and crumbled to dust. The vines withered. And we were alone in a dark cave, with an empty bed.

I switched on my flashlight.

Grover took a deep breath.

"Are…are you okay?" I asked him. It was a stupid question, of course. How could he possibly be okay after what had just happened? But I didn't know what to say. There was nothing I could do to comfort him after this.

He looked older and sadder. He took his cap from Luke, brushed off the mud, and stuck it firmly on his curly head.

"We should go now," he said, "and tell them. The great god Pan is dead."


	18. Last Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of the Labyrinth

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**The Child of Athena's Final Stand**

Distance was different in the Labyrinth. Still, by the time Rachel got us back to Times Square, I felt like we'd pretty much run all the way from New Mexico. We climbed out of the Marriott basement and stood on the sidewalk in the bright summer daylight, squinting at the traffic and crowds.

I couldn't decide which seemed less real—New York or the crystal cave where I'd watched a god die.

I led the way into an alley, where I could get a nice echo. Then I whistled as loud as I could, five times.

A minute later, Rachel gasped. "They're beautiful!"

A flock of pegasi descended from the sky, swooping between the skyscrapers. Blackjack was in the lead, followed by four of his white friends.

_Yo, boss-lady!_ He spoke in my mind.  _You lived!_

"Yeah," I told him. "I'm lucky that way. Listen, we need a ride to camp quick."

_That's my specialty! Oh man, you got that Cyclops with you? Yo, Guido! How's your back holding up?_

Guido groaned and complained, but eventually he agreed to carry Tyson. Everybody started saddling up—except Rachel.

"Well," she said to me, "I guess this is it."

I nodded uncomfortably. We both knew she couldn't go to camp. "Thanks, Rachel," I said sincerely. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"I wouldn't have missed it. I mean, except for almost dying, and Pan…" Her voice faltered, and her lower lip trembled, emerald eyes glistening.

"He said something about your father," I remembered. "What did he mean?"

Rachel twisted the strap on her backpack. "My dad…My dad's job. He's kind of a famous businessman."

"You mean…you're rich?"

"Well, yeah."

"So that's how you got the chauffeur to help us? You just said your dad's name and—"

"Yes," Rachel cut me off. "Ana…my dad's a land developer. He flies all over the world, looking for tracts of undeveloped land." She took a shaky breath. "The wild. He—he buys it up. I hate it, but he ploughs it down and builds ugly subdivisions and shopping centres. And now that I've seen Pan…Pan's death—"

"Hey, you can't blame yourself for that."

"You don't know the worst of it. I—I don't like to talk about my family. I didn't want you to know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," I shook my head. "It's cool. I get being guilty over things that your parents did. But don't blame yourself for his sins. Rachel, you were amazing. You led us through the maze. You were so brave. That's the only thing I'm going to judge you on. I don't care what your dad does."

Rachel looked at me gratefully. "Well…if you ever feel like hanging out with a mortal again…you could call me or something."

"Uhm, yeah. Sure."

She knit her eyebrows. I guess I sounded unenthusiastic or something, but that's not how I meant it. I just wasn't sure how to hang out with regular people, and, of course, there was a strong possibility I'd be dead in a few hours.

"I mean…I'd like that," I corrected myself. "I'll give you a call when the battle's over. Tell you how it went." It went unsaid that if she didn't hear from me, we'd probably lost and been killed. "I memorized your number."

Her smile came back slowly, but a lot happier. "See you later, Ana. Go save the world for me, okay?"

She walked off down Seventh Avenue and disappeared into the crowds.

***  
When I got back to the horses. Nico was having trouble. His Pegasus kept shying away from him, reluctant to let him mount.

_He smells like dead people!_  Porkpie complained.

_Hey now,_ Blackjack said.  _Come on, Porkpie. Lotsa demigods smell weird. It ain't their fault. Oh—uh, I didn't mean you, boss-lady._

"Go without me!" Nico snapped finally, crossing his arms and scowling. "I don't want to go back to that camp anyway."

"Nico," I sighed, "we need your help."

His scowl deepened and he glared at the ground.

I reached out and rested my hand on his shoulder. "Please, Nico," I pleaded with him softly. "We really need your help."

His expression softened slightly and his shoulders slumped. "Fine. I'll help with the battle, but I amn't staying."

"Alright," I agreed, even if the thought of Nico running around alone, when the Titans were definitely searching for him, made my stomach clench with worry. There wasn't time to argue.

At last we got everybody on a Pegasus. We shot into the air, and soon we were over the East river with Long Island spread out before us.

***  
We landed in the middle of the cabin area and were immediately met by Chiron, the potbellied satyr Silenus, and a couple of Apollo cabin archers. Chiron raised an eyebrow when he saw Nico, but if I expected him to be surprised by our latest news about Quintus being Daedalus, or Kronos rising, I was mistaken.

"I feared as much," Chiron stated grimly. "We must hurry. Hopefully you have slowed down the Titan lord, but his vanguard will still be coming through. They will be anxious for blood. Most of our defenders are already in place. Come!"

"Wait a moment," Silenus demanded. "What of the search for Pan? You are almost three weeks overdue, Grover Underwood! Your searcher's license is revoked!"

Grover took a deep breath. He stood up straight and looked Silenus in the eye. "Searcher's licenses don't matter anymore. The great god Pan is dead. He has passed on and left us his spirit."

"What?" Silenus's face turned bright red. "Sacrilege and lies! Grover Underwood, I will have you exiled for speaking thus!"

"It's true," I interrupted him. "We were there when he died. All of us."

"Impossible! You are all liars! Nature-destroyers!"

Chiron studied Grover's face. "We will speak of this later."

"We will speak of it now!" Silenus insisted. "We must deal with this—"

"Silenus," Chiron cut in. "My camp is under attack. The matter of Pan has waited two thousand years. I fear it will have to wait a bit longer. Assuming we are still here this evening."

And on that happy note, he readied his bow and galloped toward the woods, leaving us to follow as best we could.

***  
It was the biggest military operation I'd ever seen at camp. Everyone was at the clearing, dressed in full battle armour, but this time it wasn't for a game of Capture the Flag. This time it was  _real_.

The Hephaestus cabin had set up traps around the entrance to the Labyrinth—razor wire, pits filled with pots of Greek fire, rows of sharpened sticks to deflect a charge. Beckendorf was manning two catapults the size of pickup trucks, already primed and aimed at Zeus' Fist.

The Ares cabin was on the front line, drilling in phalanx formation with Clarisse calling orders.

Apollo's cabin were scattered in the woods with bows ready. Many had taken up positions in the trees. Hermes' cabin were either helping them, or armed with whatever weapon they favoured and gathered in clusters. Luke gave me a quick hug and hurried to join some them, organizing them into proper battle groups.

Even the dryads were armed with bows, and the satyrs trotted around with wooden cudgels and shields made of rough tree bark.

The Athena cabin had set up a command tent and were directing operations. A grey banner with an owl fluttered outside the tent. Argus stood guard at the flap.

Aphrodite's children were running around straightening everybody's armour and offering to comb the tangles out of our horsehair plumes. Most of them had bows as weapons. Despite their actions, I had faith that they'd all fight just as fiercely as the children of Ares and Athena to defend Camp.

Even Dionysus' kids had found something to do. The god himself was still nowhere to be seen, but his two blond twin sons were running around providing all the sweaty warriors with water bottles and juice boxes, swords at their hips.

It was an impressive set-up. One that could strike fear in the hearts of many enemies who saw it.

"It isn't enough," I declared to Chiron in a whisper, as I thought about what I'd seen in the Labyrinth. All the monsters in Antaeus' stadium, and the power of Kronos I'd felt of Mt. Tam. No, not even the entirety of Camp Half-Blood's warriors weren't enough to overcome that power.

I'd hoped that he would refute my statement, but instead Chiron nodded in agreement, a dark expression on his face.

My heart sank. It wasn't even close to enough, but it was all we could muster. For once I wished Dionysus was here. Then again, even if he had been, I didn't know if he could do anything. After all, gods were forbidden to interfere directly, even (or maybe especially) when it came to war. Apparently, the Titans didn't believe in restrictions like that.

Over at the edge of the clearing, Grover was talking to Juniper. She held his hands while he told her our story. Green tears formed in her eyes as he delivered the news about Pan.

Tyson had gone over to help the Hephaestus kids prepare the defences. He picked up boulders and piled them next to the catapults for firing, creating a small mountain of rocks.

"Stay with me, Ana," Chiron instructed me. "When the fighting begins, I want you to wait until we know what we're dealing with. You must go where we most need reinforcements."

"I saw Kronos," I revealed, still stunned by the fact. Somehow, I had never thought that I'd actually  _see_  the Titan king, instead of just speaking to him through dreams. "I looked straight into his eyes. It was Ethan…but it wasn't."

Chiron ran his fingers along his bowstring, looking troubled. "He had golden eyes, I would guess. And in his presence, time seemed to turn to liquid."

I nodded. "How could he take over a mortal body?"

"I do not know, Ana. Gods have assumed the shapes of mortals for ages, but to actually become one…to merge the divine form with the mortal. I don't know how this could be done without Ethan's form turning into ashes."

"Kronos said that his body had been  _prepared_."

"I shudder to think what that means. But perhaps it will limit Kronos' power. For a time, at least, he is confined to a human form. It binds him together. Hopefully it also restricts him."

"Chiron, if he leads the attack—"

"I do not think so, my girl. I would sense if he were drawing near. No doubt he planned to, but I believe you inconvenienced him when you pulled down his throne room on top of him." He looked at me reproachfully. "You and your friend Nico, son of Hades."

A lump formed in my throat. "I'm sorry, Chiron. I know we should have told you. It's just—"

Chiron raised his hand. "I understand why you did it, Ana. You and Luke felt guilty for Bianca's death, and you sought to protect him. But, my girl, if we are to survive this war, we must trust each other. We must…"

His voice faltered. The ground underneath us was trembling.

Everyone in the clearing stopped what they were doing. Clarisse barked a single order: "Lock shields!"

Then the Titan lord's army exploded from the Labyrinth, bring chaos in its wake.

***  
It was complete insanity.

I mean I'd been in fights before, but this was a full-scale battle. The first thing I saw were a dozen Laistrygonian giants erupting from the ground, yelling so loudly my ears felt like bursting. They carried shields made from flattened cars, and clubs that were tree trunks with rusty spikes bristling at the end. One of the giants bellowed at the Ares phalanx, smashed it sideways with his club, and the entire cabin was thrown aside, a dozen of the toughest warriors in Camp Half-Blood tossed to the wind like rag dolls.

"Fire!" Beckendorf yelled. The catapults swung into action. Two boulders hurtled toward the giants. One deflected off a car shield with hardly a dent, but the other caught a Laistrygonian in the chest, and the giant went down. The archers fired a volley, dozens of arrows sticking in the thick armour of the giants like porcupine quills. Several found chinks in armour, and some of the giants vaporized at the touch of celestial bronze.

But just when it looked like the Laistrygonians were about to get overwhelmed, the next wave surged out of the maze: thirty, maybe forty dracaenae in full battle armour, wielding spears and nets. They dispersed in all directions. Some hit the traps the Hephaestus cabin had laid. One got struck on the spikes and became an easy target for archers. Another triggered a trip wire, and pots of Greek fire exploded into green flames, engulfing several of the snake women. But many more kept coming.

Argus and the remaining warriors rushed forward to meet them. I saw Luke draw Halcyon and engage three of them at once. Thankfully, he was holding his ground well. Nearby, Tyson was riding a giant. Somehow he'd managed to climb onto the giant's back and was hitting him on the head with a bronze shield—BONG! BONG! BONG!

Chiron calmly aimed arrow after arrow, taking down a monster with every shot. But more enemies just kept climbing out of the maze. Finally a hellhound—not Mrs. O'Leary—leaped out of the tunnel and barrelled straight toward the satyrs.

"GO!" Chiron yelled at me.

I drew Anaklusmos and charged.

As I raced across the battlefield, I saw horrible things. Things that I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life, no matter how long it was.

An enemy half-blood was fighting with Castor, Dionysus' younger son, but it wasn't much of a contest. The enemy stabbed him in the arm then clubbed him over the head with the butt of his sword, and Castor went down. Another enemy warrior shot flaming arrows into the trees, sending our archers and dryads into a panic as they tried to dose the flames, and mostly making everything worse, not to mention getting in the way of the defenders.

A dozen dracaenae suddenly broke away from the main fight and slithered down the path that led toward camp, like they knew where they were going. One of the traitors must've told the invaders how to navigate the forest and camp grounds. If they got out, they could burn down the entire place, completely unopposed.

The only person anywhere near was Nico. He stabbed a telekhine, and his black Stygian blade absorbed the monster's essence, drinking its energy until there was nothing left but dust.

"Nico!" I yelled. He looked where I was pointing, saw the serpent women, and immediately understood.

He took a deep breath and held out his black sword. "Serve me," he called.

The earth trembled. A fissure opened in front of the dracaenae, and a dozen undead warriors crawled from the earth—horrible corpses in military uniforms from all different time periods—U.S. Revolutionaries, Roman centurions, Napoleonic cavalry on skeletal horses. As one, they drew their swords and engaged the dracaenae. Nico crumpled to his knees, but I didn't have time to make sure he was okay.

I closed on the hellhound, which was now pushing the satyrs back toward the woods. The beast snapped at one satyr, who danced out of its way, but then it pounced on another who was too slow. The satyr's tree-bark shield cracked as he fell.

"Hey!" I called.

The hellhound turned. It snarled at me and leaped. It would've clawed me to pieces, but as I fell backward, my fingers closed around a clay jar—one of Beckendorf's containers of Greek fire. I tossed it into the hellhound's maw, and the creature went up in flames. I scrambled away, breathing heavily.

I ended up beside Kayla Knowles, a daughter of Apollo, and sent her over to help Nico, while I rushed over to check on the unmoving satyr who'd been trampled. But as I bent over him, I heard Grover's voice: "Ana!"

A forest fire had started. Flames roared within ten feet of Juniper's tree, and Juniper and Grover were going nuts trying to save it. Grover played a rain song on his pipes. Juniper desperately tried to beat out the flames with her green shawl, but it was only fanning the flames, strengthening them.

I ran toward them, jumping past duels, weaving between the legs of giants. The nearest water was the creek, half a mile away…but I had to do something. I concentrated. There was a pull in my gut, a roar in my ears. Then a wall of water came rushing through the trees. It doused the fire, Juniper, Grover, and pretty much everything else except me.

Grover blew a spout of water. "Thanks, Ana!"

"No problem!" I ran back toward the fight, and Grover and Juniper followed. Grover had a cudgel in his hand and Juniper held a stick—like an old-fashioned whipping switch. She looked really angry, like she was going to give some unfortunate enemy a firm spanking.

Just when it seemed like the battle had balanced out again—like we might stand a fraction of a chance—an unearthly shriek echoed out of the Labyrinth, a sound I had heard before. It made my heart stop beating and my blood freeze in my veins.

Kampê shot into the sky, her bat wings fully extended. She landed on the top of Zeus's Fist and surveyed the carnage. Her face was filled with evil glee. The mutant animal heads growled at her waist. Snakes hissed and swirled around her legs. In her right hand she held a glittering ball of thread—Ariadne's string—but she popped it into a lion's mouth at her waist and drew her curved swords. The blades glowed green with poison. Kampê screeched in triumph, and some of the campers screamed. Others tried to run and got trampled by hellhounds or giants.

"Di Immortales!" Chiron yelled. He quickly aimed an arrow, but Kampê seemed to sense his presence. She took flight with amazing speed, and Chiron's arrow whizzed harmlessly past her head.

Tyson untangled himself from the giant whom he'd pummelled into unconsciousness. He ran at our lines, shouting, "Stand! Do not run from her! Flight!"

But then a hellhound leaped on him, and Tyson and the hound went rolling away.

Kampê landed on the Athena command tent, smashing it flat. I ran after her and Luke was quick to join me, sword in hand.

"We're so screwed, you know," he told me casually as we jogged towards Kampê.

"Probably."

"Nice knowing you, Ariel."

"See you in either Elysium or Punishment, depending on Hades' mood."

"Punishment's where all the fun people go, anyway," he smirked and high-fived me quickly.

Then, together we leaped into the monster's path. Kampê hissed and sliced at us. I dodged, trying to distract her, while Luke went in for a strike. But the monster seemed able to fight with both hands independently. She blocked Luke's sword, easily and he had to jump back to avoid the cloud of poison.

Just being near the damn thing was like standing in an acid fog. My eyes burned. My lungs couldn't get enough air. I knew we couldn't stand our ground for more than a few seconds. We needed help desperately.

But none came. Everyone was either down, or fighting for their lives, or just too scared to move forward. Three of Chiron's arrows sprouted from Kampê's chest, but she just roared louder.

"Now!" Luke cried.

Together we charged, dodged the monster's slashes, got inside her guard, and almost…almost managed to stab Kampê in the chest, but a huge bear's head lashed out from the monster's waist, and we had to stumble backward to avoid getting bitten.

Slam!

My eyesight went black. The next thing I knew, Luke and I were on the ground. The monster had its forelegs on our chests, holding us down. I could feel my ribs cracking under the pressure.

Hundreds of snakes slithered right above me, hissing like laughter. I was transfixed with terror at the sight of them, and spared a moment to curse my ophiophobia. It was an unfortunate fact of demigod life that a disturbingly large portion of monsters were reptilian. At least I didn't freeze up the minute I saw one anymore. Not that it mattered anymore, as I was about to die.

Kampê raised her green-tinged swords, and I knew we were out of options. This was the end, and I felt a jolt of guilt for poor Nico, next in line for the prophecy. It wasn't a fate I'd wish on anybody, certainly not somebody I liked.

Then, behind me, something howled. A wall of darkness slammed into Kampê, sending the monster sideways. Next thing I knew, Mrs. O'Leary was standing over us, snarling and snapping at Kampê.

"Good girl!" a familiar voice called. Daedalus was fighting his way out of the Labyrinth, slashing down enemies left and right as he made his way toward us. Next to him was someone else—a familiar giant, much taller than the Laistrygonians, with a hundred rippling arms, each holding a huge chunk of rock.

"Briares!" Tyson cried in wonder.

"Hail, little brother!" Briares bellowed. "Stand firm!"

And as Mrs. O'Leary leaped out of the way, the Hundred-Handed One launched a volley of boulders at Kampê. The rocks seemed to enlarge as they left Briares' hands. There were so many, it looked like half the earth had learned to fly.

BOOOOOM!

Where Kampê had stood a moment before was a mountain of boulders, almost as tall as Zeus' Fist. The only sign that the monster had ever existed were two green sword points sticking through the cracks.

A cheer went up from the campers, but our enemies weren't done yet. One of the dracaenae yelled, "Ssssslay them! Kill them all or Kronossss will flay you alive!"

Apparently, that threat was more terrifying than we were. The giants surged forward in a last desperate attempt. One surprised Chiron with a glancing blow to the back legs, and he stumbled and fell. Six giants cried in glee and rushed forward.

"No!" I screamed, along with several others, but everybody who'd noticed was too far away to help.

Then it happened. Grover opened his mouth, and the most horrible sound I'd ever heard came out. It was like a brass trumpet magnified a thousand times—the sound of utter terror.

As one, the forces of Kronos dropped their weapons and ran for their lives. The giants trampled the dracaenae trying to get into the Labyrinth first. To my bitter pleasure, each of those who'd attacked Chiron was shot down in their flight by our archers. He was loved a great deal by all of his students.

The telekhines, hellhounds and enemy half-bloods scrambled after them. The tunnel rumbled shut, and the battle was over. The clearing was quiet except for the fires burning in the woods, and the cries of the wounded.

Luke pulled me back to my feet and we ran to Chiron. Will and his brother Michael were already at his side, fussing over him.

"Are you all right?" I demanded, before promptly turning to the medics. "Is he okay?"

Chiron was lying on his side, trying in vain to get up. "How embarrassing," he muttered, before the guys could say a word. "I think I will be fine. Fortunately, we do not shoot centaurs with broken… Ow! …broken legs."

"They're definitely broken," Michael agreed. "You'll need to use your wheelchair for a while. But it feels like clean breaks. Stay off them for a bit and you'll be okay."

Will nodded in agreement, straightening and glancing around. "I better go help," he muttered. "Can you handle this?"

"I'll give you a hand," Luke offered, and the two hurried off.

Chiron turned to Michael. "There are more serious injuries to attend to," he told him. "Go! I am fine. But, Grover…later we must talk about how you did that."

"That was amazing," I agreed. "The hero of the hour."

Grover blushed. "I don't know where it came from." Juniper hugged him fiercely. "I do!" Before she could say more, Tyson called out to me.

"Ana, come quick! It is Nico!"

***  
There was smoke curling off his black clothes. His fingers were clenched, and the grass all around his body had turned yellow and died.

Kayla was kneeling beside him, dribbling nectar into his mouth and looking worried. Malcolm, her boyfriend, was there too, holding his arm carefully in a way that told me he'd broken it.

"Is he alright?" I asked her anxiously, just as he coughed and spluttered, his eyelids fluttering open.

"Nico, what happened?" I asked. "Can you talk?"

He nodded weakly. "Never tried to summon so many before. I—I'll be fine."

I glanced at Kayla, who nodded. "Power over-use," she agreed. "You'll need to avoid using them for a few days, and drink a bit more nectar. Only a small bit though, so you don't over-heat. Keep an eye on your temperature. One of my siblings or I'll check on you later, but there's a lot of injuries. I have to go and help them."

Malcolm helped her up, and she adjusted the satchel of med-supplies on her hip.

"Thanks Kayla," I smiled at her. "I'll look after him."

"Thanks," Nico mumbled. She ruffled his hair, making him blink in surprise.

"Welcome back, Nico," she replied. "We were all worried when you disappeared. And thanks for your help in the battle."

"Yeah," Malcolm added. "Those dracenae would've burned the camp to the ground without you."

He stared at them with a bemused expression as Kayla hurried off, Malcolm staying with us, and I just couldn't resist it.

"See?" I told him smugly. "Not everybody'll judge you on your parents. We all have our difficulties with them. Give us a chance." Luke came over, slinging his arm around my shoulders and staying quiet for once, though he gave Nico an encouraging smile.

"Yeah," Malcolm agreed with me. "Gods know you can't choose your relatives."

Nico blinked at all of us, still dazed, and then he focused on someone behind me.

"Daedalus," he croaked.

"Yes, my boy," the inventor confirmed. "I made a very bad mistake. I came to correct it."

Daedalus had a few scratches that were bleeding golden oil, but he looked better than most of us. Apparently his automaton body healed itself quickly. Mrs. O'Leary loomed behind him, licking the wounds on her master's head so Daedalus's hair stood up funny. Briares stood next to him, surrounded by a group of awed campers and satyrs. He looked kind of bashful, but he was signing autographs on armour, shields, and T-shirts.

"I found the Hundred-Handed One as I came through the maze," Daedalus explained. "It seems he had the same idea, to come help, but he was lost. And so we fell in together. We both came to make amends."

"Yay!" Tyson jumped up and down. "Briares! I knew you would come!"

"I did not know," the Hundred-Handed One answered. "But you reminded me who I am, Cyclops. You are the hero."

Tyson blushed, but I patted him on the back. "I knew that a long time ago," I stated. "But, Daedalus…the Titan army is still down there. Even without the string, they'll be back. They'll find a way sooner or later, with Kronos leading them."

Daedalus sheathed his sword. "You are right. As long as the Labyrinth is here, your enemies can use it. Which is why the Labyrinth cannot continue."

Malcolm stared at him with wide eyes. "But Chiron told me that the Labyrinth is tied to your life force! As long as you're alive—"

"Yes, my young brother," Daedalus agreed. "When I die, the Labyrinth will die as well. And so I have a present for you."

He slung a leather satchel off his back, unzipped it, and produced a sleek silver laptop computer—one of the ones I'd seen in the workshop. On the lid was the blue symbol Δ.

"My work is here," he announced. "It's all I managed to save from the fire. Notes on projects I never started. Some of my favourite designs. I couldn't develop these over the last few millennia. I did not dare reveal my work to the mortal world. But perhaps you and our other siblings will find it interesting."

He handed the computer to Malcolm, who stared at it like it was solid gold. To the members of Cabin 6, it was probably worth more.

"You're giving me this? But this is priceless! This is worth…I don't even know how much!"

"Small compensation for the way I have acted," Daedalus said. "We are children of Athena. We should be wise, and I was not. Someday you will be a greater man than I ever was. Take my ideas and improve them. It is the least I can do before I pass on."

"Whoa," I said, holding up a hand in alarm. "Pass on? But you can't just kill yourself." I didn't approve of suicide. There was always another way, if you asked me. Then again, Daedalus wasn't a sixteen-year-old mortal being bullied. He was a two-millennia-old murderer. Still, it didn't sit right with me.

He shook his head. "Not as wrong as hiding from my crimes for two thousand years. Genius does not excuse evil, Ana. My time has come. I must face my punishment."

"You won't get a fair trial," Luke warned. "The spirit of Minos sits in judgment—"

"I will take what comes," he said. "And trust in the justice of the Underworld, such as it is. That is all we can do, isn't it?"

He looked straight at Nico, and Nico's face darkened.

"Yes," he said.

"Will you take my soul for ransom, then?" Daedalus asked. "You could use it to reclaim your sister."

"No," Nico sighed. "I will help you release your spirit. But Bianca has passed. She must stay where she is."

Daedalus nodded. "Well done, son of Hades. You are becoming wise." Then he turned toward me. "One last favour, Ana Jackson. I cannot leave Mrs. O'Leary alone. And she has no desire to return to the Underworld. Will you care for her?"

I looked at the massive black hound, who whimpered pitifully, still licking Daedalus' hair. I nodded. "Yeah. Of course I will. I've always had a soft spot for dogs."

"Then I am ready to see my son…and Perdix," he said. "I must tell them how sorry I am." He turned toward Nico, who drew his sword. At first I was afraid that Nico would kill the old inventor, but he simply said, "Your time is long since come. Be released and rest."

A smile of relief spread across Daedalus' face. He froze like a statue. His skin turned transparent, revealing the bronze gears and machinery whirring inside his body. Then the statue turned to grey ash and disintegrated.

Mrs. O'Leary howled. I patted her head, trying to comfort her as best I could. The earth rumbled—an earthquake that could probably be felt in every city across the country—as the ancient Labyrinth collapsed. Somewhere, I hoped, the remains of the Titan's strike force had been buried.

I looked around at the carnage in the clearing, and the weary faces of my friends.

"Come on," I urged them. "We have work to do."


	19. Painful Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funerals, Nico leaves, and a trial

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Short chapter, pretty much the same as the canon one, the last chapter will be up soon.**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Pain-Filled Goodbyes**

There were too many good-byes.

That night wasn't the first time I actually saw camp burial shrouds used on bodies. That dubious honour had occurred during my first winter at camp when Alexa Meyers, daughter of Aphrodite had been killed. But it wasn't something I had ever wanted to see again.

Among the dead, Lee Fletcher, counsellor of the Apollo cabin had been downed by a giant's club. He was wrapped in a golden shroud without any decoration. Michael Yew was the new counsellor, and he looked distraught.

Castor, the son of Dionysus who'd gone down fighting an enemy half-blood was wrapped in a deep purple shroud embroidered with grapevines. He'd been seventeen years old. His twin brother, Pollux, tried to say a few words, but he choked up and just took the torch.

He lit the funeral pyre in the middle of the amphitheatre, and within seconds the row of shrouds (twenty-three of them. Twenty-three people, none of them more than eighteen-years-old, had been killed defending our home. Some by their own siblings.) was engulfed in fire, sending smoke and sparks up to the stars.

We spent the next day treating the wounded, which was almost everybody. Even I had a few mild injuries and a more serious concussion that I'd failed to notice until my adrenaline was gone. The satyrs and nymphs worked to repair the damage to the woods. Several dryads had been lost to the forest fire. Juniper's eyes were green-rimmed from sobbing over her friends.

At noon, the Council of Cloven Elders held an emergency meeting in their sacred grove. The three senior satyrs were there, along with Chiron, who was in wheelchair form. His broken horse leg was still mending, so he would be confined to the chair for a few months, until the leg was strong enough to take his weight again. The grove was filled with satyrs and dryads and naiads up from the water—every nature spirit in the area, anxious to hear what would happen. Word of Grover and our claim of Pan's death had spread quickly. Juniper, Luke, and I stood by Grover's side.

Silenus wanted to exile Grover immediately, but Chiron persuaded him to at least hear evidence first, so we told everyone what had happened in the crystal cavern, and what Pan had said. Then several eyewitnesses from the battle described the weird sound Grover had made, which drove the Titan's army back underground.

"It was panic," insisted Juniper. "Grover summoned the power of the wild god."

"Panic?" I asked. This wasn't something I'd ever heard of before, or I had forgotten it if I had heard about it at some point.

"Ana," Chiron explained, "during the first war of the gods and the Titans, Lord Pan let forth a horrible cry that scared away the enemy armies. It is—it was his greatest power—a massive wave of fear that helped the gods win the day. The word panic is named after Pan, you see. And Grover used that power, calling it forth from within himself."

"Preposterous!" Silenus bellowed. "Sacrilege! Perhaps the wild god favoured us with a blessing. Or perhaps Grover's music was so awful it scared the enemy away!"

"That wasn't it, sir," Grover said. He sounded a lot calmer than I would have if I'd been insulted that way. Of course, I wouldn't have replied with words to being spoken to like that. I'd have drawn my sword and lopped the lazy goat's tail off.

"He let his spirit pass into all of us. We must act. Each of us must work to renew the wild, to protect what's left of it. We must spread the word. Pan is dead. There is no one but us."

"After two thousand years of searching, this is what you would have us believe?" Silenus cried. "Never! We must continue the search! Exile the traitor!"

Some of the older satyrs muttered assent. I clenched my fists, debating the pros and cons of killing the Council of Hooved Morons. So far, I was seeing a lot of pros, and the only con was the fuss it would cause. That could be dealt with though. I'm sure the gods would forgive me, if I explained how infuriating the satyrs were. They had done worse for far pettier reasons, after all.

"A vote!" Silenus demanded. "Who would believe this ridiculous young satyr, anyway?"

"I would," a familiar voice declared.

Everyone turned. Striding into the grove was Dionysus. He wore a formal black suit, so I almost didn't recognize him, a deep purple tie and violet dress shirt, his curly dark hair carefully combed. His eyes were bloodshot as usual, and his pudgy face was flushed, but he looked like he was suffering from grief more than wine-withdrawal.

Much as I hated to compliment a god, I had to acknowledge that Dionysus cared for his sons. He had claimed them personally, the minute they arrived at Camp, and spent time with them, practicing their powers and playing card games. It was way more than anything the other gods did for their kids.

The satyrs all stood respectfully and bowed as he approached. Dionysus waved his hand, and a new chair grew out of the ground next to Silenus'—a throne made of grapevines.

Dionysus sat down and crossed his legs. He snapped his fingers and satyr hurried forward with a plate of cheese and crackers and a Diet Coke.

The god of wine looked around at the assembled crowd. "Miss me?"

The satyrs fell over themselves nodding and bowing. "Oh, yes, very much, sire!"

"Well, I did not miss this place!" Dionysus snapped. "I bear bad news, my friends. Evil news. The minor gods are changing sides. Morpheus has gone over to the enemy. Hecate, Janus, and Nemesis, as well. Zeus knows how many more."

I swore softly under my breath, exchanging a concerned look with Luke, as thunder rumbled in the distance. Chiron grimaced and sighed heavily at the news, though he seemed unsurprised.

"Strike that," Dionysus corrected. "Even Zeus doesn't know. Now, I want to hear Grover's story. Again, from the top."

"But, my lord," Silenus protested. "It's just nonsense!"

Dionysus' eyes flared with purple fire. "I have just learned that my son Castor is dead, Silenus. I am not in a good mood. You would do well to humour me."

Silenus gulped, and waved at Grover to start again.

When Grover was done, Mr. D nodded. "It sounds like just the sort of thing Pan would do. Grover is right. The search is tiresome. You must start thinking for yourselves." He turned to a satyr. "Bring me some peeled grapes, right away!"

"Yes, sire!" The satyr scampered off.

"We must exile the traitor!" Silenus insisted.

"I say no," Dionysus countered. "That is my vote."

"I vote no as well," Chiron put in.

Silenus set his jaw stubbornly. "All in favour of the exile?"

He and the two other old satyrs raised their hands.

"Three to two," Silenus announced smugly.

"Ah, yes," Dionysus acknowledged. "But unfortunately for you, a god's vote counts twice. And as I voted against, we are tied."

This was possibly the only time I'd ever felt fond of Dionysus. I didn't like it. Hopefully the feeling would pass quickly so I could return to resenting him and faking respect.

Silenus stood, indignant. "This is an outrage! The council cannot stand at an impasse."

"Then let it be dissolved!" Mr. D snapped. "I don't care."

Silenus bowed stiffly, along with his two friends, and they left the grove. About twenty satyrs went with them. The rest stood around murmuring uncomfortably.

"Don't worry," Grover told them. "We don't need the council to tell us what to do. We can figure it out ourselves."

He told them again the words of Pan—how they must save the wild a little at a time. He started dividing the satyrs into groups—which ones would go to the national parks, which ones would search out the last wild places, which ones would defend the parks in the big cities.

"Well," Luke muttered to me. "Looks like Grover's finally fitting into his horns."

I gave a strained smile and lent into his arm. "Our baby goat's growing up."

Later that afternoon I found Tyson at the beach, talking to Briares. Briares was building a sand castle with about fifty of his hands. He wasn't really paying attention to it, but his hands had constructed a three-story compound with fortified walls, a moat, and a drawbridge.

Tyson was drawing a map in the sand.

"Go left at the reef," he told Briares. "Straight down when you see the sunken ship. Then about one mile east, past the mermaid graveyard, you will start to see fires burning."

"You're giving him directions to the forges?" I asked.

Tyson nodded. "Briares wants to help. He will teach Cyclopes ways we have forgotten, how to make better weapons and armour."

"I want to see Cyclopes," Briares agreed. "I don't want to be lonely anymore."

"I doubt you'll be lonely down there," I replied. I'd never even been in Poseidon's kingdom, and I admit, part of me was curious. Just a little. "They're going to keep you really busy."

Briares' face morphed to a happy expression. "Busy sounds good! I only wish Tyson could go, too."

Tyson blushed. "I need to stay here with my sister. You will do fine, Briares. Thank you."

The Hundred-Handed One shook my hand about a hundred times. "We will meet again, Ana. I know it!"

"I'm sure that we will," I agreed, making his smile widen.

Then he gave Tyson a big octopus hug and waded out into the ocean. We watched until his enormous head disappeared under the waves.

I clapped Tyson on the arm, giving him a proud look. How my baby had grown from the little Cyclops I'd found cowering in a New York alleyway. "You helped him a lot."

"I only talked to him."

"You believed in him. Without Briares, we never would've taken down Kampê."

Tyson grinned. "He throws good rocks!"

I laughed. "Yeah. He throws really good rocks. Come on, baby. Let's go and have dinner."

It felt good to have a regular dinner at camp. Tyson sat with me at the Poseidon table. The sunset over Long Island Sound was beautiful. Things weren't back to normal by a long shot, but when I went up to the brazier and scraped part of my meal into the flames as an offering to Poseidon and several other gods like Hestia, I felt like I really did have a lot to be grateful for. My friends and I were alive. The camp was safe. Kronos had suffered a setback, at least for a while.

The only thing that bothered me was Nico, hanging in the shadows at the edge of the pavilion. He'd been offered a place at the Hermes table, and even at the head table with Chiron, but he had refused.

After dinner, the campers headed toward the amphitheatre, where Apollo's cabin promised an awesome sing-along to pick up our spirits, but Nico turned and disappeared into the woods. I decided I'd better follow him and Luke joined me.

As we passed under the shadows of the trees, I realized how dark it was getting. I'd never been scared in the forest before, and I wasn't now, though I knew there were plenty of monsters. Still, I thought about yesterday's battle, and I wondered if I'd ever be able to walk in those woods again without remembering the horror of the battle. I doubted it. These woods had been tainted for me. Tainted with the blood of my friends.

We couldn't see Nico, but after a few minutes of walking we saw a glow up ahead. At first I thought Nico had lit a torch. As I got closer, I realized the glow was a ghost. The shimmering form of Bianca di'Angelo stood in the clearing, smiling at her brother. She said something to him and touched his face—or tried to. Then her image faded.

Nico turned and saw us, but he didn't look mad.

"Saying good-bye," he said hoarsely.

"We missed you at dinner," I replied. "You could've sat with me."

"No."

"Nico, you can't miss every meal, you'll starve," Luke argued. "If you don't want to stay with Hermes, I'm sure that Chiron would be willing to make an exception and put you in the Big House. They've got plenty of rooms."

Luke didn't seem to have realized what was happening, but I had. I didn't like it, but I knew I couldn't stop it.

"I'm not staying, Luke."

"Nico, it's dangerous for a half-blood on their own out there," Luke argued. "Believe me, I know."

"I can't stay," Nico insisted. "I need to figure things out."

"Promise me something, at least," I cut in, before Luke could argue any further. I didn't like it any more than Luke, but I could tell that Nico wasn't comfortable here. And I understood how he felt, mostly. Being the only mortal daughter of Poseidon ever, and the next-in-line to the Great Prophecy earned me a lot of  _looks_. Not from my friends, but others. People I only knew in passing. People who recalled the stories of things my half-brothers had done and feared I would repeat their actions. Or worse, that I would destroy the West next year.

Even though I loved Camp Half-Blood dearly, I often left and wandered around. Usually I just went to my mother's cabin at Montauk, but not always. I simply couldn't take the way some people looked at me, and the way the magical barriers and the rock walls of my cabin seemed to press in on me, stopping my ability to breathe.

So yes, I understood why Nico needed to leave. It was even worse for him. Some people wouldn't judge him by his heritage, would look past his powers over the dead. But others wouldn't.

"What?" Nico asked.

"Be safe," I replied seriously. "And IM us if you need help. I have a cabin at Montauk. You can stay there if you ever need to."

He gave a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes, and nodded. "Fine," he agreed, adding "Thanks," a moment later.

"When will you go?" I asked.

"Right away. I've got tons of questions. Like who was my mother? Who paid for Bianca and me to go to school? Who was that lawyer guy who got us out of the Lotus Hotel? I know nothing about my past. I need to find out."

"Makes sense," I admitted. "Just remember that we're here for you, okay? We're your friends, even if you don't want us to be." Luke nodded in agreement. I could tell by the downward slant to his mouth that he didn't like it, but he hadn't continued trying to persuade the younger boy to stay.

Nico lowered his gaze shamefully. "I'm sorry that I was a brat. I should've listened to you about Bianca."

"You were grieving," I shrugged. "I get it. Both of us do."

"By the way…" Luke fished something out of his pocket. "I found this while I was sorting things in the cabin. I thought that you might want it."

He held out a lead figurine of Hades, a Mythomagic statue of Hades. Bianca had been killed because she'd taken it from Hephaestus' junkyard as a gift for Nico.

Nico hesitated. "I don't play that game anymore. It's for kids."

"It's got four thousand attack power," Luke coaxed.

"Five thousand," Nico corrected. "But only if your opponent attacks first."

I smiled at him. "Maybe it's okay to still be a kid once in a while." Luke tossed him the statue.

Nico studied it in his palm for a few seconds, then slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks."

Luke shook his hand, and when they'd released each other I stepped forward and embraced him. He was stiff for a moment, before returning it and burying his head in the crook of my shoulder for half-a-second. He felt cold as ice in my arms.

"I've got a lot of things to investigate," he said, stepping back. "Some of them…Well, if I learn anything useful, I'll let you know."

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I nodded anyway. "Keep in touch, Nico."

He turned and trudged off into the woods. The shadows seemed to bend toward him as he walked, like they were reaching out for his attention.

A voice right behind me said, "There goes a very troubled young man."

We turned and found Dionysus standing there, still in his black suit.

"Walk with me, Amy," he ordered. "Liam, go away."

Luke grimaced, bowed, and scampered off with a troubled frown on his face.

"Where are we going?" I asked suspiciously, looking away from Luke to the wine god.

"Just to the campfire," he replied. "I was beginning to feel better, so I thought I would talk with you a bit. You always manage to annoy me."

"Uh, thanks."

We walked through the woods in silence. I noticed that Dionysus was treading on air, his polished black shoes hovering an inch off the ground. I guess he didn't want to get dirty.

"We have had many betrayals," he informed me, as if I didn't already know. "Things are not looking good for Olympus. Yet you and Luke saved this camp. I'm not sure I should thank you for that." Had he actually used Luke's proper name? He was in worse shape than I had realized.

"It was a group effort."

He shrugged. "Regardless, I suppose it was mildly competent, what you two did. I thought you should know—it wasn't a total loss."

We reached the amphitheatre, and Dionysus pointed toward the campfire. Clarisse was sitting shoulder to shoulder with a big Hispanic kid who was telling her a joke. I covered my mouth in shock when I recognized him. It was Chris Rodriguez, Luke's half-brother who had gone insane in the Labyrinth.

I turned to Dionysus. "You cured him?"

"Madness is my specialty. It was quite simple."

"But…you did something nice. Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I am nice! I simply ooze niceness, Amy Johansson. Haven't you noticed?"

"Uh—"

"Perhaps I felt grieved by my son's death. Perhaps I thought this Chris boy deserved a second chance. At any rate, it seems to have improved Clarisse's mood."

"Why are you telling me this?"

The wine god sighed. "Oh, Hades if I know. But remember, girl, that a kind act can sometimes be as powerful as a sword. As a mortal, I was never a great fighter or athlete or poet. I only made wine. The people in my village laughed at me. They said I would never amount to anything. Look at me now. Sometimes small things can become very large indeed."

He left me alone to think about that. And as I watched Clarisse and Chris singing a stupid campfire song together, holding hands in the darkness, where they thought nobody could see them, I had to smile.

If anybody deserved a bit of happiness amidst all of this grief, it was Clarisse.


	20. Unhappy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana has a surprise visitor(s) on her birthday.

**Disclaimer: not mine. Last chapter of BotL! Omg!**

**Chapter Twenty**

**An Unhappy Birthday**

The rest of the summer seemed strange because it was so normal. The daily activities continued: I taught swordplay and riding, practised rock climbing. We played capture the flag (though we all avoided Zeus' Fist). We sang at the campfire and raced chariots and played practical jokes on the other cabins and beat up anybody who pranked our own cabins in revenge. I spent a lot of time with Tyson, playing with Mrs. O'Leary, but she would still howl at night when she got lonely for her old master.

Luke and I had finally returned to our normal flirty-and-friendly relationship. But our kiss at Mount St. Helens lingered in the back of my mind whenever I was with him. I could see him thinking about it too, sometimes, but I couldn't let myself give in to the desire to be with him. Not when I'd probably be dead in a year.

I tried to tell myself that it was better for both of us, but I knew that I was just being a coward.

July passed, with fireworks on the beach on the Fourth. August turned so hot the strawberries started baking in the fields. On Silena's suggestion, she, Lou Ellen, Katie and I all started working on a memorial for those lost in the war, occasionally with help from others.

Finally, the end of camp arrived.

I had debated going back to Montauk for a while, but eventually decided against it. I couldn't, in good conscious, not dedicate myself to the war. Not when the faces of the dead from the Battle of the Labyrinth (as we had started calling it) played on the backs of my eyelids every night. No, if I wanted a chance at fulfilling the Great Prophecy next year, and saving the West, then I needed to spend every second I had preparing for it.

Even though I had decided to stay, not all of my friends had, of course. Silena, Katie, Will and Clarisse were all going back to their mortal lives. I was glad for them. They deserved a break from the stress.

The afternoon of the last day of camp's summer session arrived, and I said my goodbyes with the others on top of Half-Blood Hill.

Silena hugged me tightly, promised to return for my birthday party, kissed Beckendorf passionately, then ran down the hill to where her dad was waiting for her in his delivery van, emblazoned with the logo for his chocolate shop. Katie, who was still bruised from her most recent session of 'beating up the Stolls', kissed my cheek and demanded weekly IMs. She wouldn't be able to make it to my party, as her mortal family all lived in Connecticut. Clarisse punched Luke, nodded to me with a smile, then left, hand-in-hand with Chris. Will asked me to give him news about Nico when I got it, his cheeks tinted red.

I grinned in amusement at that. Given our heritage, homophobia was pretty much non-existent at Camp as far as I knew. Will was openly gay, and it was obvious from the way he talked that he had a crush on Nico.

It was cute, and funny.

Finally, Luke and I were left alone with Peleus, who rubbed his scaly head against me in search of petting.

"What's with you and monsters?" Luke asked, his grin not reaching his eyes as he watched me rub the dragon gently along the neck.

"Ah, they can't help being born the way they are," I murmured. "Some o' them are good. They deserve a chance."

Luke hummed and rocked on his feet, shoving his hands into his back pockets. "I have to tell you something," he announced suddenly. I'd already figured that out. He'd been brooding over something for almost a week now, but it was better to wait for him to say it willingly, instead of trying to force him to talk.

"Of course. You can always talk to me."

He licked his lips to wet them, looking down at the grass. "Annabeth," he faltered, closed his eyes tightly for a moment to gather his courage, and continued. "A few months ago, she came to me while I was in the city. Had a flag of truce with her. Asked me to run away with her to Alaska. The gods have no power there.

And then. A few nights ago, I had a dream."

He looked at me, anguish in his expression.

I didn't say a word, just reaching out to touch his arm lightly in an attempt to comfort him.

"I think that Annabeth has become host to the Titaness Themis," he confessed. "She was one of Kronos' top supporters during the first war, and cast into Tartarus along with him. I think he decided she would be a good replacement queen."

Of course, after Rhea's treachery, she would never be Kronos' queen again. Still, Luke had shocked me. I didn't know what to say. The fact that demigods could host titans still disturbed me, and went against anything I'd ever heard.

I wasn't given the chance to reply anyway, as a woman's voice spoke before I could figure out how to reply.

"I regret to say that you are correct, my dear boy."

A sparkle of light appeared next to us, like someone had opened a gold curtain in the air. Next thing I knew, a tall woman in a white dress with her dark hair braided over her shoulder, was standing on the hill.

"Hera," I stated, my voice flat. I didn't like that she had obviously been eavesdropping on us.

The goddess smiled. "You found the answers, as I knew you would. Your quest was a success."

"A success?" Luke repeated, tone incredulous. I had to agree. "Ethan and Annabeth are gone, the King of the Titans returned to earth. Daedalus is dead. Pan is gone forever. How is any of that—"

"Our family is safe," Hera insisted. "Those others are better gone, my dear. I am proud of you."

I balled my fists. I couldn't believe she was saying any of this. "You're the one who paid Geryon to let us through the ranch, weren't you?"

Hera shrugged. Her dress shimmered in rainbow colours. "I wanted to speed you on your way."

"But you didn't care about Nico," I bit out. "You were happy to see him turned over to the Titans."

"Oh, please." Hera waved her hand dismissively. "The son of Hades does not belong. We'd've been better off without him."

I could've hit her. Only Luke's hand wrapped around my wrist stopped me.

"I think you'll find, my lady," I hissed instead. "That others disagree with you." Will wasn't the only one who'd asked me if I knew how Nico was doing.

Her eyes turned dangerously bright. "Watch yourself, daughter of Poseidon. I guided you more than you know in the maze. I was at your side when you faced Geryon. I let your arrow fly straight. I sent you to Calypso's island. I opened the way to the Titan's mountain. My dear, surely you see how I've helped. I would welcome a sacrifice for my efforts."

I could've held my tongue, agreed to toss some salad into the brazier for her. Kept the peace.

But I had never let the power of a god intimidate me into going against my morals before, and I had no intention of doing so now.

"I'm sure you would," I said coldly. "But you won't be getting anything from me."

Hera's sneer was worse than an empousa's. Her form began to glow. "You will regret this insult, Ana. You will regret this very much."

I averted my eyes as the goddess turned into her true divine form and disappeared in a blaze of light.

The hilltop was peaceful again. Over at the pine tree, Peleus the dragon dozed under the Golden Fleece as if nothing had happened.

Luke and I looked at each other.

"So that's another enemy for you to add to the list," he noted mildly.

I shrugged. "Just another day in the life a demigod," I replied philosophically. I grinned at him, forcing the mood to lighten a bit. "C'mon, let's go to the arena so I can kick your ass at swordplay."

He smirked and started down the hill at a run. "Last one there has to clean the other's armour for a week," he called to me.

"γάιδαρος!" I yelled after him, rushing to catch up.

We'd have to worry about the ramifications of Annabeth becoming host to a Titan, and my insulting Hera later. But for now, we could just breathe. It wasn't as if we'd have a lot of time to do so later on, after all.

***  
Two days later it was my birthday. I wasn't particularly fond of celebrating it, especially as it fell right after camp ended, so I rarely got to see all of my friends. But after everything that had happened this summer, everybody was in dire need of something to celebrate, and my birthday was a good excuse for it.

All the year-rounders, and a few others who lived close enough to have made the journey back for the day, were gathered on the beach. Beckendorf had set up a barbecue grill, and the scent of BBQ filled the air. A table was laden with sweets, sodas, and some pastries (most of which were donated by Silena and her father). Another table was covered with gifts, but I hadn't looked at them yet.

Everybody was playing different games, ranging from Monopoly to volleyball, and for once I felt relaxed instead of worried.

Of course, I should have realized it couldn't go smoothly.

I was just finished blowing out the candles when the people around me paled, stiffened, and fell into bows. Their grins had disappeared, and tension filled the air.

I braced myself and turned, inhaling deeply when I saw my father.

I was dressed casually, in a pair of small purple short with drawstrings, and a striped purple and white bikini top tied in a bow. My feet were bare, and I had my camp necklace dangling around my throat as per usual.

Ten seconds ago, I'd been fine and confident with that. Now, I wished I'd asked to be covered in armour when I was blowing out my candles. I felt horribly vulnerable, especially with my various scars on full view.

Of course, Poseidon wasn't exactly dressed for battle either. He was wearing Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and Birkenstocks, like he usually did. His black beard was neatly trimmed and his sea-green eyes twinkled. He wore a battered cap decorated with fishing lures. It said NEPTUNE'S LUCKY FISHING HAT.

I gave a stiff bow, my shoulders taught with tension. "Father. What an unexpected pleasure." One I really hadn't wanted.

"Daddy!" Tyson, the only one pleased at the god's arrival, bounded across the beach and gave Poseidon a big hug, which almost knocked off his fishing hat.

"Hello son," Poseidon chuckled, patting Tyson cheerfully on the back. He turned to me, grinning widely.

"Happy birthday, my dear daughter," he greeted me. "Fifteen! Why, if this were Ancient Greece, you'd be married with children by now!"

"Thank you," I replied carefully, though it came out more like a question than anything else. How was I supposed to respond to that?

Poseidon nodded, stepping closer. If he noticed how we all stiffened even more at the motion, he didn't let on. "I wish to speak with my daughter privately," he declared firmly.

"We can talk in my cabin," I murmured, quickly heading in the direction of Cabin Three before anybody else could say or do something. "You guys keep having fun," I called over my shoulder to them, not wanting them to stop enjoying themselves entirely. "I'll be back in a bit."

Unless my father sent me on yet another quest. Gods, I prayed that wasn't why he was here. I'd go crazy if I had to go on another godsdamned quest. I had already set a record for most quests completed by one half-blood in recent decades, and I wasn't keen to add more to my resume.

***  
Once we were alone in the cabin (thankfully, I kept my section private via a sheet), my father's smile faded.

"Are you all right, my girl?"

"Yeah. Thanks," I answered, my tone curt.

"I heard stories," Poseidon told me. "But I wanted to hear it directly from you. Tell me everything."

So I did. It was a bit disconcerting, because Poseidon listened so intently. His eyes never left my face. His expression didn't change the whole time I talked. When I was done, he nodded slowly.

"So Kronos is indeed back. It will not be long before full war is upon us."

"What about Ethan?" I asked. "Is he really gone? Is it true about Annabeth and Themis?"

"I don't know for certain, Ana. It is all very disturbing. But your tale fits with the reports I have heard."

"But their bodies are mortal. Couldn't you just destroy them?"

"Mortal, perhaps, but there is something different about those two, my girl. I don't know how they were prepared to host the Titans' souls, but I doubt that they will be easily killed. And yet, I fear that is what must happen if we are to send Kronos back to the pit. I will have to think on this. Unfortunately, I have other problems of my own."

I remembered what Tyson had told me at the beginning of the summer. "The old sea deities?"

"Indeed. The battle came first to me, Ana. In fact, I cannot stay long. Even now the ocean is at war with itself. It is all I can do to keep hurricanes and typhoons from destroying your surface world, the fighting is so intense."

"Can I help?" I offered on impulse. I didn't like the prospect of being around gods 24/7, but sitting back and doing nothing felt even worse.

Poseidon's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Not yet, my girl. I sense you will be needed here. Which reminds me…" He brought out a sand dollar and pressed it into my hand. "Your birthday present. Spend it wisely."

"Uh, spend a sand dollar?"

"Oh, yes. In my day, you could buy quite a lot with a sand dollar. I think you will find it still buys a lot, if used in the right situation."

"What situation?"

"When the time comes," Poseidon said, "I think you'll know."

I closed my hand around the sand dollar, but something was really bothering me.

"Father," I began slowly, "while I was in the maze, I met Antaeus. He said…well, he said he was your favourite child. He decorated his arena with skulls and—"

"He dedicated them to me," Poseidon supplied. "And you are wondering how someone could do something so horrible in my name."

I nodded uncomfortably. "It isn't the type of thing I would have associated with what I know of you," I explained. I knew that my father could be cruel and petty, like all the gods. But Antaeus' actions bothered me deeply.

Poseidon put his weathered hand on my shoulder. "Ana, lesser beings do many horrible things in the name of the gods. That does not mean we gods approve. The way our sons and daughters act in our names…well, it usually says more about them than it does about us. And you, Ana, are my favourite child."

I inhaled sharply in shock at that. I had never expected him to say something like that. I knew I had a better relationship with my father than most, even if I didn't particularly like being around him. But for him to declare me his favourite child was a shock, and I had to admit a part of me was pleased by it.

I bowed to him, looking at the floor. "Thank you, my lord," I muttered. "I'm honoured by your words."

Poseidon nodded to me, then his expression turned grave again. "There is one last thing you should know. That incident at Mount St. Helens…"

For a second I thought he was talking about Luke and I kissing, and I flushed, but then I realized he was talking about something a lot bigger.

"The eruptions are continuing," he announced. "Typhon is stirring. It is very likely that soon, in a few months, perhaps a year at best, he will escape his bonds."

"I'm sorry," I croaked, my stomach dropping in honour. "I didn't mean—"

Poseidon raised his hand. "It is not your fault, Ana. It would've happened sooner or later, with Kronos awakening the ancient monsters. But be aware, if Typhon stirs…it will be unlike anything you have faced before. The first time he appeared, all the forces of Olympus were barely enough to battle him. And when he stirs again, he will come here, to New York. He will make straight for Olympus."

That was just the kind of wonderful news I wanted to get on my birthday, but Poseidon patted me on the back like everything was fine. "I should go. Enjoy your cake."

And just like that he turned to mist and was swept out the window on a warm ocean breeze.

We tried, but the festive air had been ruined by my father's arrival. We ate the cake, I opened my gifts and gave thanks to everybody, then everyone dispersed. I couldn't eat any of the blueberry-flavoured birthday cake Katie had baked for me, so I left the remainder on a desk in my cabin.

Once I was alone again, I found myself mulling over my conversation with Poseidon and fidgeting with a silver bracelet that Luke had given me. It was beautiful and delicate, yet strong at the same time.

Everything I didn't think I was, and yet Luke had always seen me as. Gods, I was grateful for him. I would never have survived my first year after learning my heritage if not for his steadfast support and comforting presence.

The moonlace that Calypso had given me glowed on my windowsill.

It was flourishing, and Katie was helping me with the small flower garden I had planted just behind my cabin, in Calypso's honour. I wished I could have hit Hera for sending me to Ogygia. It might have saved my life, but it had put a good person through yet more undeserved pain. It bothered me to know that I couldn't do anything to help her.

I sighed heavily, wondering for the millionth time what to do. Could I even do anything? Sometimes it was tempting to curse Thalia for joining the Hunters and leaving me as next-in-line for the Great Prophecy, but I knew that wasn't fair. The Fates would decide who fulfilled the prophecy. If it was meant to be me, then they would ensure that I was the one, no matter what. If it was somebody else... Well, to tell the truth, I doubted our ability to hold out much longer. Not with Kronos released.

The photograph on my bedside table caught my eye. I put down my bracelet and picked it up to stare at it. It was of my mom and I, the day I was born. Mom, almost nineteen, was lying on a hospital bed with a radiant smile lighting her beautiful, young face as she gazed down at the pink bundle she cradled carefully.

She had died nine years ago now. I had been without her longer than I'd been with her. Last year, Chiron had gotten her things that had been put in storage after her death, and given them to me. Some jewellery, books, photos and things like that. Most importantly to me, a diary.

They let me know the woman my mother had been. Clever, compassionate, and she had loved me so much.

There were entire pages dedicated to tiny achievements my infant self had accomplished. The way she wrote, you would have thought my learning to hold my head up without support was the equivalent to me becoming the first female President of the US.

More than anything, I wished she were still alive. I wished I knew what she would think of me now.

Had she known about the Great Prophecy that had haunted me since birth? It didn't seem like it, from the diary. She'd known that Poseidon wasn't supposed to have mortal children though. She'd been terrified for me.

I sighed again, fighting tears. Gods, I wished I knew what to do. About Luke, the war, Calypso, the prophecy. Everything. I felt so lost and frightened, and yet I didn't dare to let it show. My friends needed me to (appear to) be in control. I was afraid I'd go crazy if I let myself poke at the muddled mess that made up my emotions.

"Nice plant," a voice commented.

I jumped, reaching for the knife lying on my table, the weapon nearest my hand. Nico was standing at the entrance to my cabin. He'd just appeared there without a sound.

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"That's fine," I waved him off, releasing the knife. "How are you? Are you okay?"

He'd grown about an inch taller over the last couple of months. His hair was a shaggy black mess. He wore a black T-shirt, black jeans, and a new silver ring shaped like a skull. His Stygian iron sword hung at his side.

He nodded. "I'm fine," he promised. "I've been doing some exploring," he said. "Thought you'd like to know, Daedalus got his punishment."

"You saw him?"

Nico nodded. "Minos wanted to boil him in cheese fondue for an eternity, but my father had other ideas. Daedalus will be building overpasses and exit ramps in Asphodel for all time. It'll help ease the traffic congestion. Truthfully, I think the old guy is pretty happy with that. He's still building. Still creating. And he gets to see his son and Perdix on the weekends."

"That's good."

Nico tapped at his silver ring. "But that's not the real reason I've come. I've found out some things. I want to make you an offer."

"What?"

"The way to beat Ethan," he replied. "If I'm right, it's the only way you'll stand a chance."

I took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm listening."

Nico glanced inside my cabin. His eyebrows furrowed. "Is that…is that blue birthday cake?"

He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if he'd ever had a birthday party, or if he had ever even been invited to one.

"Come inside for some cake and ice cream," I instructed him. "It sounds like we've got a lot to talk about."


	21. Author's Note

Adios amigos! I'm off to Spain for my hols! Woah! So excited, but it does mean about a fortnight without updates. Sorry. Promise I'll be back before you know it.


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